


Quarantined Together

by AvengersNewB



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Artist Steve Rogers, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Bottom Steve Rogers, Celebrity Crush, Confessions, Cooking, Crushes, Dancing, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Consent, Falling In Love, First Dates, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Gentle Sex, Getting Together, Gratuitous objectification of Steve Rogers, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, Hook-Up, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Insomnia, Intercrural Sex, Kitchen Sex, Licking, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Pandemics, Panic Attacks, Playlist, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, Quarantine, Rimming, Scars, Sexual Roleplay, Sharing a Bed, Shower Sex, Simultaneous Orgasm, Slapping, Slow Dancing, Spanking, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Strip Games, Strip Tease, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Tony Stark, Truth or Dare, United States, Virgin Steve Rogers, Wall Sex, but not really because hook up?, houston, okay we did not go full bdsm here suddenly, stony hug and fly, they are just discussing things very lightly, very light undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:13:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 40,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23223820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvengersNewB/pseuds/AvengersNewB
Summary: Steve and Tony hook up on a night out in a bar. They wake up the next morning to the news that they have to self isolate for two weeks.There would be sex.There might also be ... love.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 737
Kudos: 827





	1. Day 0 - Hook Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sabrecmc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabrecmc/gifts).



> who shared this [twitter ](https://twitter.com/RoseStokes/status/1237119471803924486?s=09) post in PotS discord server. Hope you like this <3
> 
> So I started a quarantine fic!  
> This fic will discuss things that are happening right now all around the world because of the COVID-19 pandemic, so please take care of yourself and don't read this if you don't want to be exposed to it. For those of you beautiful people who decide to give this a go, hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Thank you so much to fiftyshadesofstony and athletiger for beta.  
> Bae and Seri, I love you guys, thank you for everything!

The bar is crowded and dim. 

Steve had gone through three beers, including the one from the handsy guy. He had ended up kicking the guy's ass but wastage is wastage and there is no need to throw away a good pint of beer.

The fourth beer comes quite unexpectedly, from a guy Steve had not spotted before. He can usually tell if people are watching him, even if they are not in his line of sight, but he had not seen this guy, not before the bartender puts the beer in front of him. Steve turns to the direction the bartender points to and the guy raises his glass, nods, and wow, smiles. 

There is something magical about that smile. It’s beautiful and earnest and it kinda lights up the guy’s face. Sparkles shine in his eyes and butterflies start to fly in Steve's stomach. Things seem to run away, all of a sudden; and he feels like he is 20 again, carefree and shy and damn he is absolutely blushing.

“May I sit down?”

Steve looks up and it feels like someone has knocked the breath out of his lungs. He opens and closes his mouth and tries to say something but no sound seems to come out. He nods, after many attempts at finding words and failing miserably, and the guy sits down on the stool next to him, not even two inches away.

Steve tries to look away. He wants to be polite and not stare, he wants to at least take a sip from the drink the guy bought him but he just can’t. He looks at the guy and his dark fluffy hair and wonders if that third drink has actually got to him because he seems to have a hard time keeping his hands to himself. He suddenly has this urge to touch this man; those eyes, that hair, and the perfect mesmerizing whole-face smile. 

“Tony,” he says and he stretches his hand out. Steve manages to grab the hand and shake it, and mumble something which, thank God, sounds very much like his own name. The guy, Tony, brings his other hand forward, holds on to Steve’s hand with both of his own, and smiles again. “Nice to meet you, Steve,” and Steve’s heart starts to race in his chest. 

They talk about unimportant stuff, from baseball to world peace. Steve does his best to keep up with the unlimited string of words and funniest jokes in human history, but he fails mostly. He constantly catches himself with an open mouth, holding his fifth and sixth beer halfway in the air and nodding like a stupid goofball. It’s not like he can’t talk about basketball or memes; he finished a 300-page book about Gen Z and meme culture, thank you very much. But this guy… is just impossible. Every single word out of his mouth is pure genius, and the scent he spreads as he moves is just intoxicating.

Steve blushes at a dirty joke, giggles and blushes a bit more, embarrassed from giggling and blushing in the first place. Tony smiles at the whole show Steve’s got going on and lays a reassuring hand on Steve’s shoulder. Steve’s body freezes for a second, and he feels numb from the touch before something starts to burn through his left shoulder down to his chest and set his whole body on fire.

Steve has never felt this way before. 

He is fascinated by this guy’s eyes and his jokes and the most beautiful laugh he has ever heard, but it’s not just that. There is something about sitting here and blushing shyly that feels right. It feels to have been decided for him by a greater power, somehow, that had brought him to this bar randomly and had made him stick around even after the disastrous approach from that previous douche bag. Not that Steve wants to get spiritual about meeting a sexy man, but he feels like he's been waiting for this for so long, for eternity maybe.

And he knows what he needs to do next. He is certain. He is ready.

So he just does it, he leans forward and kisses Tony.

Steve’s body is burning with desire as Tony cups the back of his head to pull him in, and he starts trembling as Tony wraps his other hand around his waist to keep him close. They kiss, lips, tongues, and teeth, and Steve knows that he is being horrible and clumsy, but Tony doesn’t seem to care at all. He tightens his hold on Steve’s nape as soon as he breaks away and pulls Steve back into another wet and sloppy yet more breathtakingly amazing kiss. 

Steve is not sure about what happens next exactly. He remembers being held tight and kissed as they pay for their drinks, walk out of the back door, and into a hotel lobby that is apparently right behind the dingy bar. He remembers the hand that’s wrapped around his waist the whole time, as Tony talks to the hotel reception and the amazing feeling of Tony’s body pressing him onto the elevator mirror all the way up to level one hundred and fifty-something. 

Tony is gentle and relentless and Steve can’t quite figure out how those two things can be true at the same time. He is smaller than Steve, height and build and all, but Steve feels absolutely powerless in his hands. He allows Tony to drag him along to the bedroom of what seems to be a luxurious penthouse and goes easily as Tony pushes him onto the enormous white bed, gentle but firm. 

He stands at the foot of the bed and watches Steve for a moment. The anticipation of what’s coming next makes the butterflies fly again in Steve’s stomach and the way Tony seems to be admiring the sweaty flushed mess Steve must be right now, builds more heat low in his belly. He is warm and dizzy and buzzing with want without the tiniest shred of doubt about doing this. He is not even nervous, although he always thought he would be when he finally does it, but now…he feels right. He feels safe.

Tony’s fingers lighten up every inch of Steve. He pauses after undoing each button to kiss whatever bit of skin he has just revealed and makes sure to whisper something about the way Steve feels under his hands each and every time. 

Steve tries to say something too. He tries to reach over and touch Tony because he really absolutely wants to, but the connection between his brain and his body seems to be malfunctioning. He knows what he needs to do, at least in theory. He has thought about this so many times, and although he will never admit to _anyone_ he might have made a few lists in some of his notebooks. Right now, however, all he can do is immerse himself in the touches and kisses and words and blush, God, all over his almost naked body.

Tony kisses the tip of his nose and it’s endearing and hot as hell, and he pulls back a little. He grabs Steve’s hand with both of his, lifts his chin, and the way he looks at Steve, awed and soft and yet beaming desire, takes Steve’s breath away.

“So please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ll be damned if I don’t ask and I will kick myself to oblivion if I do anything without being sure, so, here we go… is this your first time with a guy?”

Steve is not sure if it’s physically possible to be more turned on than he is right now. Or embarrassed for that matter as he is cherry red all over and he is absolutely leaking in his underwear. He nods and probably blushes some more because Tony’s eyes get even softer and yet darker with intent. 

“But you have done this before, right? I am not your --” and Steve’s not sure what he does with his face but Tony’s suddenly kissing him all gentle and fierce again. 

Things get even more blurry after that. Tony strips out of his clothes except for his briefs and lies next to Steve. His hands and lips are back on Steve’s body as he wraps his feet around Steve’s. The words that he whispers don’t quite register anymore, but they are doing magic to Steve’s nerves because he feels calm and liberated. He doesn’t try to control his hands anymore. He just wraps them around Tony and lets go, of the embarrassment, the cold, the anger, the pain, and the sorrow.

Tony asks before taking off Steve’s boxers. He waits patiently for Steve to say the word, and asks and waits again before Steve tells him that he can touch his cock. In the long seconds between the confirmation leaving Steve’s lips and Tony’s hand finally touching him, and in the feverish haze that’s clouding his brain, Steve thinks about how this is nothing like he had imagined his first time to be. That this, here, naked and lost in Tony’s body and his scent and his touch, is something he has never even dared to dream about. He trembles and whines as Tony’s fingers wrap around his cock and doesn’t even try to stop the stream of nonsense that is coming out of his mouth. He reaches over and pushes Tony’s briefs down, enough to get his hand on Tony’s cock, vaguely aware that he should probably ask first but he just can’t. He runs his fingers on the head and smears Tony’s precum over the head and the length. Tony moans, long and low and a fresh rush of arousal goes through Steve’s body. He presses himself into Tony, squirming as Tony’s fingers move on him, mirroring his rhythm without realizing.

He is hot. He is lightheaded. He is exhilarated. He is safe and he feels that he can let go. That he can finally let go. 

Tony’s fingers move around Steve’s cock and he tightens his feet around Steve’s ankles. Steve’s fingers move on Tony and he pulls him further in until there is no distance between them and their lips meet into a kiss unexpected and electrifying. 

Everything clicks into place. Steve comes, shivering and crying and he holds on to Tony as he comes almost instantly after Steve. It takes a second, or an hour, but they hold on to each other all the way through it, every tremor, every whimper, every gasp. Tony kisses Steve’s lips, his eyes, his neck, and his chest and Steve kisses the top of Tony’s head and the back of his neck. He knows that he probably should move, clean up, do or say something, but Tony is holding on to him tight and that’s all he needs in the world right now.

He closes his eyes, with his chin brushing against Tony’s hair, as Tony pulls the covers over them and falls into a dreamless deep sleep.

*** 

Steve wakes up with the sound of a ringing phone and a deep low voice talking, which sounds kinda angry. In the sleepy confusion of the first seconds after waking up, he wonders if he has done something wrong and his heart drops as he sits up in the still warm but empty bed. 

Tony is on the phone on the other side of the room by the window, naked, and Steve lets out a breath he has been holding as he is not the only naked person in the room. He doesn’t get a chance to worry about anything else though; his phone starts ringing in the pocket of his jeans. And thank god, because Tony grabs them from the couch, walks over and drops them on Steve’s lap so he doesn’t have to do the naked walk of shame across the room. Tony smiles at Steve and bends down to leave a quick kiss on Steve’s hair absentmindedly before turning back to the window and butterflies flutter in Steve’s stomach again. He takes his phone out, which has now stopped ringing, and wonders what has gone wrong, because he has 22 missed calls, 14 messages, and five voice mails.

Steve taps on Nat’s caller ID photo and reads through all of the messages. He wonders if he is still asleep or if Nat has decided to message in some sort of code because none of the messages make any sense. He looks at Tony who is now off the phone and his defeated and miserable expression does not make any sense either.

Steve dials into his voice mail and listens to all six of Nat’s messages, which are all exactly the same and It’s probably around the ending of the fifth message that things start to sink in.

_“Steve, where the hell are you? I need your location ASAP. Fury got a call an hour ago since you used your SHIELD credit card in that bar last night. A staff member had tested positive and you know WHO has declared a pandemic today. Anyone who’s been to that bar last night has to self isolate for 14 days. Don’t do anything stupid, okay? Call me as soon as you get this.”_

He looks up at Tony, who is still standing by the window, tapping on his phone quickly, and for a second gets lost in the way he looks different but exactly the same in the daylight. Tony looks up from his phone as if he can feel Steve’s eyes on himself and his distressed features pull Steve out of the bubbled daze and throws him back into reality. 

“We still have pandemics?" 


	2. Day 1 - Bed Sharing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter, Day 1, is here, as promised. I am planning to update daily so please help me go with your precious kudos and comments <3
> 
> We are still discussing the pandemic of the COVID-19 (although I have not mentioned the name so far) so please take care of yourself and don't read this fic if you don't want to be exposed to it.
> 
> Thank you to Ria Rose and Succubus Kayko for beta.

Tony can technically drive back to Manhattan if he hires a car but being on the road for 21 hours does not really sound like adhering to the self-isolation guidelines. Getting on a plane, even his own jet, is not an option either and less conventional ways of travel may raise some unwanted suspicion. He will have to stay here for the next 14 days, and as Pepper has just mentioned, half friendly and half annoyed, it’s not the worst place one could find themselves stuck. 

He will have to deal with the guy in the shower though, to figure out what his plan might be. As far as Tony knows--he actually doesn't know anything, except for his name, and a few fun facts such as the way he blushes at almost everything and smells like the meadow in a summer afternoon. Oh and the fact that he is still naked, washing that gorgeous body right behind this wall.

The image goes straight to Tony’s cock, and suddenly, instead of finalizing the list of the essential items he needs from home, all he can think about is Steve. The way he gasps and closes his eyes, the way he had been lost in Tony’s touch and the way he came apart under Tony’s hands. 

The fact that he is a virgin, well not anymore technically, but still pretty much, and the fact that he has shared his first-ever with Tony, is quite magical. The intensity of how precious and how ecstatic it feels takes Tony by surprise, and, wow, makes him hard, full-on. His first instinct is to leave the list and walk into that shower to touch that wet, perfect body, but he’s not a horny pig, not a hundred percent anyway. Even if he doesn’t account for the self-isolation news or the sea of unknown and unforeseen things happening around them right now, it’s still highly inappropriate to walk in on a guy with a stiffy, just because he has given Tony the honor of touching him, God, as the first person, ever.

He takes a deep breath, puts his t-shirt on, and gets back to his list. He has to wait a bit before putting his jeans back on though; no way he can fit his cock behind any type of zipper right now.

***

“I can’t stay here, SHIE--my employer can’t afford this place. They are working on getting alternate accommodation for me right now, so I’ll be out of your hair as soon as possible.”

Tony looks up from his phone and blinks at the sight of the guy, fresh out of the shower. His hair’s still damp and his cheeks are flushed from the heat of the shower. Tony can’t decide if he looks more perfect naked, or framed in those unbelievably skinny jeans and a plain white t-shirt that’s almost see-through for being this stretched over those amazing pecs. Tony swallows, thankful for the genius idea of putting his jeans back on a minute ago, because as uncomfortable as it feels with his dick twitching against the rough fabric right now, it would have been way more uncomfortable to deal with the embarrassment of getting hard at the sight of the guy, in front of the guy himself.

“So you don’t live in Houston either?” Tony asks.

“I am from New York. I’m here on… business.”

“Oh wow, me too! From New York I mean. And here on business.” He locks his phone, throws it on the couch and stands up. 

“So your employer wants to move you? I’m not sure if that complies with the rapidly evolving strictness of the self-isolation guidelines.” 

Steve shifts on his feet and rubs the back of his neck. Tony wonders how slowly he should walk toward Steve, not to be threatening or making him uncomfortable.

“I am not sure about the logistics of that, to be honest. I will do as they tell me, it should hopefully be okay,” Steve says, not sounding very hopeful about it.

“I don’t need to charge your employer for this room though, I can afford the two weeks on my own,” Tony says, taking a couple of careful steps forward, hoping he doesn’t sound like a pretentious rich person.

Steve doesn’t seem offended but he doesn’t seem that impressed either. He clenches his jaw a little and folds his arms over his chest and the urge to kiss that strong jawline coils low in Tony’s belly.

“It’s very generous of you, Tony, but I can’t possibly accept it. I'm sure it costs a fortune to stay here for two weeks and I won’t be comfortable knowing that much money’s spent on my accommodation, either way,” 

Tony takes a couple of slow steps ahead. The fact that this guy’s not willing to accept Tony’s money is refreshing. Or to be precise, pretty much unprecedented as far as Tony remembers, except for a couple of people. 

“But I’m paying for it anyway, Steve. You’re basically doubling up if that’s what you're worried about.” 

Steve frowns and his eyes become disapproving. 

“Please, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t think anyone should spend this much money on luxurious items. There are people out there right now in this same situation as us who probably can’t afford any sort of accommodation. Or food for that matter.”

Tony should be offended right now. He should think that Steve’s trying to mock his lifestyle and suggests he is extravagant, and that should throw Tony off the rails and make him start talking about the obscene amount of money he donates every year, and even touch on the non-monetary good things that he does. On the contrary, though, he feels intrigued. The guy has a point and he seems to be genuinely interested in doing the right thing, rather than teaching Tony a lesson.

Tony can technically let the argument go now. He can order breakfast, through the already-in-place arrangement with the hotel to provide food for the penthouse in a safe manner and get back to his list that’s now officially late arriving in Pepper’s inbox, but he can’t bring himself to do any of that. 

What he wants to do, he realizes as he walks another couple of steps, is to close the distance and kiss Steve’s pursed lips until they part a little to let Tony’s tongue in. It’s to have more of him, that hair, those lips, that perfect ass, and that apparently good heart. All he wants to do is make Steve stay, one way or the other, and maybe do something good along the way as well.

“Okay, I hear you, and I agree with you. How about I get the hotel to let me donate the money on their behalf? To the cause of helping people in hardship during self-isolation?”

Tony swallows, blinks, and pushes both of his hands in his pockets because he’s now standing in front of Steve and he doesn’t want to ‘accidentally’ touch Steve’s breathtaking biceps.

“Can you… can you actually do that?”

And he smiles, light and bright, different from what Tony has seen so far. Tony smiles back and his heart grows at least half a size.

“I sure can. I’ll just have to mention 'Four Seasons' at my press conference tomorrow. If they throw in more money, I might even say I’m generally happy with their service. It works in all cases.”

“That is awesome. That’s… wow… perfect. I’d be honored to be part of that.” Steve’s smile deepens, crinkling the corner of his eyes and Tony makes a mental note, ‘looks even more perfect when he’s pleased with something’. 

“I won’t be imposing on you? You know, taking up your space? I am generally organized and I clean up after myself but I'd still be around, you know… all the time.” 

‘Oh, please be around all the time’ is what Tony wants to say, but he decides against it at the last beat. “This is a four-bedroom penthouse Steve, there’s plenty of space. I’ll need to do a lot of work so I’ll be stuck at my soon-to-arrive StarkPad and sketches for long periods, but I’m a hoot to be around. Well mostly, and it depends on who you ask and at what time, but I stand by that statement.” 

Steve laughs, throwing his head back a little and Tony twitches his fingers in his pockets, using up a lot of his usually low supplies of self-control to not reach over and wrap his arms around Steve.

“Okay then. I appreciate it. I’ll contact my friend and have her arrange some things for me.” 

“Have her contact my assistant, Ms. Pepper Potts at Stark Industries. She’s already made an arrangement with the hotel to deliver things to the door in compliance with self-isolation rules.”

Steve looks up from his phone, eyes wide and interested. “Stark Industries? Do you work at Stark Industries? Wow, no wonder they can afford this--wait-- _Tony_? As in Tony Stark, himself?” 

Tony panics for a second at the possibility of Steve being part of the considerably large ‘I hate Tony Stark’ clan.

“Yes, himself. As in me. Tony Stark.”

Steve’s face goes from shock to unreadable, before it softens to another perfect smile, and Tony lets out a breath he did not know he was holding. 

“Nice to meet you, _Tony Stark_. I’m a huge fan of your designs and I swear by StarkLit 17 magazine system. I’d make all semi-automatics the same if I could. Or I’d make SL17 mandatory on the field." 

“Always a thrill to meet a fan, Steve. I’m glad you like my StarkLits.”

They both laugh this time, and things seem pretty promising for the first hour of their now mutual self-isolation.

***

Tony spends hours on the phone, conferencing with so many people he loses count. Pepper orders changes of clothes online before his personal things arrive and some for Steve, too, although she doesn’t approve of the gesture.

Steve doesn’t seem to mind though. He takes the sweat pants, couple of t-shirts, and the change of underwear to his ‘room’ because Tony _had_ to propose he could take any of the rooms, including the one they slept in last night. He'd vaguely hoped that Steve would suggest they can sleep in the same room but sadly, he doesn’t. It would be crazy anyway and Tony distracts himself with another hour of useless yelling at the board, to discuss the inevitable financial crisis on the horizon, hoping he could reprogram board members to his liking using the BARF technology, one day. 

He watches Steve do 73 push-ups, as he walks to the kitchenette to get more coffee, and listens to his soft humming while Steve’s doodling something, sitting at the dining table looking at the Houston skyline from the floor-to-ceiling window. 

They have dinner together, as no one’s available to hassle Tony on the phone. It goes mostly in silence though, because Tony is exhausted and Steve apparently finds it impolite to speak as he eats. Tony makes another mental note to make sure he spends some time - without food - with Steve tomorrow, and smiles to hide his disappointment when Steve stands up to clear his plate and go to bed, at 6:45 PM.

***

It’s almost midnight. Tony’s been tossing and turning for an hour in the bed he shared with Steve last night. Gorgeous, virgin and blushing at first touch Steve, who’s sleeping in the next room and all Tony can think about is the way he touched Tony, shy but certain. He welcomes the dizzying thoughts over the creeping anxiety of the hell that he will need to deal with in the coming days, for SI, for the greater community, and for the whole world, probably. He’s contemplating jerking off, to let off some steam and hopefully go to sleep for a few hours, when he hears the sounds. He mostly feels them, as if with his heart and not his ears as if he’s imagining something that does not exist, but he sure as hell knows that it does.

He sits on the bed and listens carefully. He wishes he was in his own house, so he could get JARVIS to check on Steve, and it takes him a minute to decide that making sure Steve is okay should be more important than respecting his privacy. Worst that could happen is catching Steve masturbating, which would not be the worst scene in the world and maybe Tony can help out; like one of those low-quality porn movies he secretly loves to watch. 

Steve’s not masturbating. 

He’s sitting on the floor, in the corner of the room, shaking, and he is staring at something Tony can’t see, but he can imagine is not a happy or fun image. Tony takes a number of deep breaths to calm down before walking over to Steve because there is no chance he can help Steve in an apparent panic attack if he starts having one himself. He kneels before Steve and reaches over to touch him, as gently as he possibly can with the way his heart is racing in his chest. He is relieved that Steve doesn’t fight his touch or look worse or more disturbed. 

He puts both of his hands around Steve, slowly reaching back to clasp them together, and starts caressing Steve’s back in soothing circles. He whispers reassuring words into his ear and his own heart starts to slow down as Steve’s body warms up, until neither of them is shaking anymore.

Tony then helps Steve up and into the bed. He has no intention of leaving, but the way Steve holds on to his hand after he lies down, and just does not let go, breaks Tony’s heart into a thousand butterflies.

He lies down with his chest pressed to Steve’s back and doesn’t stop drawing small circles on Steve’s back long after Steve falls asleep. He pulls the covers over them, makes sure Steve’s tucked in and warm, and falls into a dreamless, deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it.  
> I appreciate each and every comment including the emojis, so please tell me what you think :)  
> I'm [avengersNewB](https://avengersnewb.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, come talk to me :)


	3. Day 2 - Media Problem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2, is here, as promised. I am doing my best to update daily so please help me go with your precious kudos and comments <3
> 
> We are still discussing the pandemic of the COVID-19 (still not mentioned the name) so please take care of yourself and don't read this fic if you don't want to be exposed to it.
> 
> Thank you to Ria Rose and Succubus Kayko and JehBeeEh for beta, guys I can't do it without you thank you soooo much <3<3<3

Steve wakes up in Tony’s arms. 

He remembers waking up in the middle of the night after one of those nightmares his subconscious can craft perfectly to maximum hurt level. The shady images that run through his brain, the absolute terror of waking up in the dark, confused and lost, the ache of seeing Bucky’s face in the white background, screaming and getting away from him. 

Shame swirls in his chest with the idea of Tony walking in on him in whatever miserable state he must have been in, and for a second he wonders if he can sneak out of Tony’s hold, out of the room and out of this place altogether. 

Tony is breathing softly and his body is pressing against Steve’s, firm and solid. He had stayed, holding Steve through the night, and that calms Steve down a little. He takes a deep breath and then another one. It will be fine. Well, mostly.

“Hey there. Feeling better?” Tony whispers against Steve’s skin and the hair stands on the back of Steve’s neck. He nods as his throat is parched and his heart’s racing - not from the terror of his horrible nightmares this time. 

“You had me really worried there. I’m not even sure how I heard you from behind two closed doors.” 

Tony’s voice is low and his words are gentle. His fingers are drawing little circles on Steve’s chest, leaving fuzzy trails on his skin. Warmth spreads from the tip of his fingers through Steve's chest and all over his body and a thrill starts low in his belly and fires up his spine.

He turns and wonders if he's ever seen anything more beautiful than the deep lines that form around Tony's mouth as his face lights up into a smile.

"I'm sorry." 

"Hey, hey, nothing to be sorry about. I'm glad I heard you." His fingers trail up Steve’s spine, resting on his nape, making Steve’s breath hitch along the way.

He closes his eyes, as Tony’s fingers brush over his neck and caress his cheeks, tilting his head, just a little, and his lips are on Tony’s. Tony kisses him, his tongue touching Steve's lips and Steve opens up and lets him in, losing himself in the sensation. Tony's feet curl around Steve's as they taste each other and Steve's hand laces into Tony's hair. He can’t quite believe it, but he has _missed_ touching this fluffy black perfection. 

By the time it’s bright outside, Steve is naked and panting. Tony has kissed his lips, tasting and biting, and has nibbled and licked the line down his throat, on his chest and his navel many times. Steve is on his back, sweaty and flushed and burning all over. He wants-- he doesn’t know what. He just _wants_.

Time freezes and the world stops turning when Tony’s lips touch Steve’s cock. He is melting. He might actually have evaporated somehow and the only part of him that's still there is the point of contact between his body and Tony’s. He can’t see. He can’t breathe. He can’t think. All that there is, is Tony and his lips moving on Steve, up and down in an insanely slow rhythm. It’s soft and gentle, like his kisses and his touch, and it’s firm and tight, as he has held Steve over the past two days. 

Steve’s fingers find Tony’s hair, trying not to pull or push but he is unable to control himself completely. He can’t contain the way he moans and trembles as Tony swallows him down, wondering if this is the last bit of life before he can see heaven when Tony starts to suck his cock.

He does see heaven, just after that, or whatever it's called; the bliss, the deafening silence, the coming together of his senses and his body in one point, before it all goes running, exploding into a million tiny pieces.

Tony holds him down as he comes back to himself, his mouth still around Steve’s cock and it takes so long until Steve stops gasping for air and loosens his hold on Tony’s hair. He doesn’t want it to end though. He wants to stay like that a little longer; with his body under Tony’s hands, his fingers messing up Tony’s hair and his feet rubbing Tony’s back. He wants to stay in Tony’s hold, he wants to stay connected.

They stay like that, connected, until Steve’s breathing evens out and the warmth of Tony’s mouth around his cock is not burning anymore. Tony kisses Steve, all the way back to Steve’s lips and pets his hair, whispering praises in his ear that Steve can feel, but he can't quite understand. He helps Steve into the shower as if Steve’s a fragile first-timer, which he kinda is, and it is not until after Tony has finally left him alone to go sort out breakfast, that it hits Steve, finally. He has forgotten to even tryto touch Tony.

***

Tony is already on the phone when Steve sits down to have breakfast and is yelling at someone about releasing some funds when Steve cleans his dish in the kitchen. He tries to talk to Tony when his essential items arrive, but Tony is having a shouting match with a group of foul-mouthed people about repurposing some facility in upstate New York as a quarantine station. Steve brings everything in without bothering Tony, all four giant boxes, two suitcases, and seven small bags, and stacks them neatly in the foyer area.

Steve throws punches at an imaginary sandbag and uses the doorstop to do some chest presses. It doesn’t work as well as his usual five-mile runs and two-hour workout in the gym, but it’s something, and something is better than nothing. He takes another shower, eats, takes a nap and wakes up to the sound of Tony yelling, again, about how saving 2000 jobs in the middle of a crisis will not force SI to go bankrupt.

Steve sighs at the sight of untouched sandwiches on the dining table, surprised that Tony could go without food for so many hours. He pours a cup of coffee, piles a plate with sandwiches, and it takes a lot of willpower not to kiss Tony’s hair when his eyes sparkle and his mouth moves in a silent ‘thank you’.

Steve makes a mental note; Tony has a perfect coffee smile. 

It’s been so long since Steve has had someone to listen to while sketching, even if that person’s constantly shouting and swearing; this time about how stupid it is for some small workshop in Malibu requiring a million dollars to get equipped to make medical supplies. Steve looks out of the window and tries to doodle the Houston skyline for the twentieth time, but what ends up on the paper are the fragments of Tony’s body that are visible from the open door of the bedroom. 

***

“I’m healthy and I’ve not been experiencing any symptoms. I need to reassure shareholders and the public that everything is under control-- well, as much as possible in the current situation, but I need to reassure you that my self-isolation has no effect on SI, in any capacity.”

Steve’s heart had skipped a beat when Tony came out of his room wearing a charcoal, three-piece suit with a red tie and all Steve’s been thinking about since then is if he would ever get a chance to loosen that tie, undo that first button, and kiss Tony’s throat. The idea hasn’t lost its novelty in the past hour and a half, as Steve’s mind has been bouncing between SI’s share price going down and journalists being mean and insensitive in a politically correct way, but back to the tie and Tony’s Adam’s apple, always. 

“Mr. Stark, is it true that you’re self-isolating with the hooker you picked up at a bar two nights ago? We have footage of you groping him in the elevator, but none of the gay escort services in Houston have been able to identify him.”

Steve is still thinking about nibbling at Tony’s throat when he feels the blood start to leave his head. He freezes up for a second and his breath seems to get quick and short. He can’t see the press, as they can’t see him standing behind the camera and the screen that came in one of Tony’s boxes, either, but he can imagine the guy’s pathetic face, sweating in his oversized suit. Steve is now fully accustomed to the video-conferencing technology, but his body still wants to punch the guy through the screen. He clenches his fists and takes a deep breath, thankful that he has put his water glass down on the coffee table, so he doesn’t have to clean up a sea of shattered and bloody glass pieces after. 

“That’s a cheap shot, Johnny, even for FOX News,” Tony smirks and shakes his head. “In the middle of a rapidly evolving global crisis that we had no idea existed 4 days ago, all you care about is if I’ve picked up someone from a bar or if I’m getting any as I’m staying here for two weeks.” Tony looks above the camera right to where Steve is standing and it might all be the games in Steve’s brain, but he smiles and nods to Steve, and the blood starts to flow up in Steve’s veins again. 

“But, just so you know, and not that I’d be ashamed if I had picked up a hooker down at that bar, but no, it is not true,” and he shakes his head again, and something serene about his lopsided smile eases the pain in Steve’s clenched fists. He opens his hands and wiggles his fingers, as he lets out a breath he’s been holding, deep but quiet.

“It’s a shame really because now I need to sign off to go check on the unidentified person I’ve apparently been groping in the elevator, and I can’t answer any more questions,” and he taps on his watch and the noises in the room and in Steve’s head die down immediately.

***

Tony doesn’t take a single call, even from Ms. Potts, although she would absolutely ‘kill him because of it’.

He sits down with Steve and explains that no known entity can publish that footage without their consent and Johnny has burnt his chance to leak that footage by bringing it up in public, in hopes of egging Tony to get some angry response. That it will be okay, that he is sorry to have put Steve on the spot like this, and being near Tony has many downsides including constant media attention of the worst possible kind. That he will fix it, one way or the other. 

Steve eats his pasta and nods a lot, wondering if it would be totally inappropriate to feed Tony some of the pasta he has not touched at all. He nods some more, in absence of any clear ideas that would form into words, and then stands up to clear his plate and go to bed, as soon as the clock hits 7 PM.

***

He can’t go to sleep. He checks his emails on his laptop that arrived earlier that afternoon, right before the press conference. He replies to a couple, but he can’t focus, and even finding the box of Zaro's black and white cookies with Nat and Clint's silly note doesn’t make him feel any better. He is jittery and unsettled. He feels horrible.

He thinks about the way Tony has been _giving_ since he has met him. The way he has treated Steve like he is a piece of fine glass art, with care and diligence. The way he has tried to shift things in his multi-billion dollar business, yelling and swearing, to do the right thing for his employees and the public as much as he can, never mentioning a thing about saving himself from any harm, financially or physically. 

Steve thinks about the way Tony had shown him, a perfect stranger, heaven this morning without even suggesting that Steve should do something in return. Steve has not done any of it before, true, but he is sure as hell that this is _not_ how it's supposed to work. That fucking press conference above all, the way he had only worried about Steve’s state of mind without worrying a single bit about how the whole thing could affect him or his business.

And Steve … he feels that he has been a total dick about it. He feels that he needs to kick his own ass right now, as he has been a self-centered prick, too overwhelmed all the time, that he has not taken a second to do something for anyone else, especially the man who’s held his hand through the ups and downs of the roller coaster that’s been the past couple of days.

He needs to fix this, at least a little.

It’s almost midnight when he finally slams his laptop shut and kicks away the blanket. 

He’s learned to do other things by watching YouTube videos before and some have been successful on the first attempt, like that ‘high release backhand’ frisbee throw that had knocked Batroc out on the field. This probably won’t work that well, and it’s a small thing to do anyway, but it’s what he can do, or at least try to do here and now, and he is not going to not try, for fear of messing up.

He stands in his room for a second and listens to make sure Tony is still awake. He will do this, now. It wouldn’t be a big thing, but it would be something. And something is better than nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it.  
> I appreciate each and every comment including the emojis, so please tell me what you think :)  
> I'm [avengersNewB](https://avengersnewb.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, come talk to me :)


	4. Day 3 - First Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fourth chapter is here, as promised. Thank you to everyone reading this so far. Your nice words make my day and they are truly my fuel to go on writing this daily. I love you all and I hope every one stay safe and happy during this hard time.
> 
> We are still discussing the pandemic of the COVID-19 (although I have not mentioned the name so far) so please take care of yourself and don't read this fic if you don't want to be exposed to it.
> 
> Thank you to fiftyshadesofstony, Succubus Kayko and JehBeeEh for beta, guys you make my work readable and I really really appreciate your help <3<3<3

Tony is not yelling at Pepper. 

Mostly to keep his head on his shoulders, as per usual, but this time specifically, to keep from disrupting Steve’s sleep. He has left his door open to hear Steve, in case he has a nightmare or something, hoping to catch it earlier this time, so he needs to stay calm; even more than he usually does.

Pepper is furious, as expected. Tony has apparently confirmed he is self-isolating with someone he picked up from a bar - a point that Tony strongly disagrees with - and that’s apparently a huge PR nightmare, as Tony Stark has been irresponsible and reckless again, in a time of such horrible crisis. As far as Tony is concerned, the media can go fuck themselves, because he has not done a single thing wrong. Pepper, however, ‘begs to differ’ and is explaining to Tony how she has spent the past four hours with PR and legal trying to mitigate the issue, in some not very nice words. 

Tony is sighing and rubbing his forehead when Steve shows up at his door, awake and not shaking. He has changed into clothes Tony has not seen before, so his things must have arrived sometime during Tony’s all day shouting festival.

He lets Pepper know that he will call her back sometime in the foreseeable future. He leaves the ‘foreseeable future’ clause out of his statement, though, just in case.

Steve is standing at the door, and well, he is blushing. Tony’s heart melts a little at the sight and he wonders if it’s appropriate to run to him with open arms, to hold him tight, and to kiss him all over that perfect red face. 

Steve walks in and the color spreads from his cheeks down to his neck. Tony watches his slow steps, part hesitant and part certain, and his heart speeds up steadily with each and every step. He takes a deep breath when Steve finally reaches him, after what seems like an eternity, which might be his last proper breath, at least for a while.

Steve runs his hand in Tony’s hair and something prickles his scalp, moves through his spine all the way to the tip of his toes. He closes his eyes and gasps when Steve’s fingers trail down the side of his face and, God, touch his lips. He’s not sure how good of an idea it would be to part his lips and taste them right now.

The fingers brush over Tony’s chin and rest on his throat. Tony tilts his head back, just a little, hoping to show that he _loves_ what Steve’s doing to him, without saying a word. He tightens his hold on the edge of the desk and does his best to stay still as if he is holding something fragile in his hand that could break with the tiniest of trembles or be disrupted by the lowest whispers. 

Steve’s other hand trails down the side of Tony’s face, finds his tie and works it loose. He unbuttons Tony’s shirt, one by one, and takes the tie off, all with one hand. The other hand is keeping steady at Tony’s throat, pressing so lightly that it’s barely there, but it’s present and it’s intensely overwhelming. 

Tony almost cries out when Steve’s lips touch his neck. It feels like it’s the first time someone’s ever kissed that line in the middle of Tony’s throat, and the way Steve’s lips are so gentle, yet unbelievably firm, make it so damn difficult to not move, to not touch, to not burst into tears. 

Steve moves down Tony’s chest and licks those few scars in the middle. This doesn’t just feel like it's the first time; this actually _is_ the first time that anyone has appreciated the scars on Tony's chest, ever. There must be something seriously wrong with Steve though, to appreciate something weird like that. It’s a good flaw; Tony notes, ‘he likes imperfections’.

Tony’s efforts to stay still finally fail when Steve nibbles at his stomach. He blinks at the sight of Steve going down on his knees, between Tony’s legs, and he opens and closes his mouth in hopes for some meaningful words which obviously don’t exist. 

Tony wishes that there was a definitive way of discussing things that did not require words. Especially now, as Steve has undone Tony’s zipper and is pressing his nose to Tony’s briefs, and the only sounds Tony can manage are meaningless, broken syllables. Stopping Steve is the last thing he wants to do right now, the bottom of the list after dealing with board members and suffering a horrible death. He will kick himself for this, for stopping Steve and possibly talking him out of it, but he just _can’t_. 

No one should trust anything with Tony, as Pepper just stated on the phone, but for some reason absolutely beyond him, someone has decided to do exactly that, and there is no way in hell that Tony can betray Steve’s trust. Nope. None. 

It’s unfair and it’s absolutely painful, but it’s the fucking right thing to do. It takes Tony every single bit of his will power though, to let go of the edge of the desk, cup Steve’s face and bring it up so he can see Steve’s eyes. “Steve, what are you doing?” 

Steve blinks, and the flush that’s coloring from the tip of his nose to the hem of his t-shirt goes even darker. 

“Do I have to say the words?” Steve says, blinking a few more times, and swallowing visibly, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

“Not if you don’t want to. But why? You don’t have to sweetheart, I don’t want you to push yourself into anything for me.” Tony runs his thumb on the sides of Steve’s face and something presses at his heart when Steve closes his eyes and leans into his touch.

“I want to. I haven't done this before but-- I’ll be careful, I promise. I’ll do my best.” And for the love of God, he looks so sincere that it melts Tony’s heart like a roasted marshmallow. 

“God, Steve, I know you’ll be careful. You don’t have to … you know … you just don’t need to.” 

“Why not?” Steve seems confused for a second. He takes a moment to think before he practically pouts. “I mean if you don’t want me to do it, it’s okay, I under-- ” and fuck Tony’s life, Steve looks hurt.

“No Steve, fuck no. Are you fucking kidding me?” Tony says, and he sighs with relief because Steve doesn’t look hurt anymore. “Of course, I want you to. I’m just-- you don’t have to. You don’t owe me anything.” Tony says with a smile, and he runs his other hand in Steve’s hair.

Steve narrows his eyes and he looks at Tony disapprovingly. Tony makes a mental note, although this is probably the worst time for it; Steve disapproves a lot and looks just as perfect doing it.

“It’s not because I owe you anything. I just want to do this for you. I want to make you feel good, just … that. That’s what I wanna do,” and his face goes soft, his words turning into sparkles that burn through Tony’s body. “May I? Please?”

And Tony loses his grip, slips, and lets go. 

He lets go.

***

This is not possible. The way Tony’s on fire from head to toe, the way he is weightless and absorbed as if he doesn’t exist at all, only Steve. This is how it must feel to be a star gravitating toward a black hole; not that Steve is a black hole, and fuck, he truly hopes that he hasn’t said any of that out loud.

Steve’s careful and tender. His lips are soft as a feather, and he presses them around Tony’s cock with a perfect amount of pressure, which is crazy consistent. It’s slow and smooth and, oh God, so gentle that Tony wants to cry, and yet it feels like nothing Tony has ever felt before. It’s perfect. 

Well, almost perfect, because Steve starts to lick Tony’s length just then, and Tony can’t get a hold of himself anymore. He presses his fingers into the desk and closes his eyes, opening them in the hypothetical paradise of pleasure where there is nothing, except for stars and flowers and Steve. Steve, who is sucking Tony’s cock, somehow kissing his soul in the process too, and there, _that’s perfection._ The way he is caressing Tony’s body and his soul right at the same fraction of a second, pushing him over the edge, out of existence and into a pool of quantum particles. 

He comes back to the atomic world in Steve’s arms, still sitting on the desk. He is warm and free and-- he stumbles on this one a bit. It might be the remainder of the orgasmic haze or the simple fact that he hasn’t felt perfectly safe like this for so long. Or ever. 

***

“No. It’s okay.” Steve practically slaps Tony’s hand away. He is not upset, Tony is sure, if the way he looks at Tony, all soft and awed as if Tony has moved some sort of mountain, is anything to go by. Or, how tight his hand is still wrapped around Tony’s waist, holding him close, and not letting go.

He had taken Tony’s clothes off, piece by piece, and had carried him, _bridal style_ , into the bed. He has been playing with Tony’s hair, kissing his neck, pressing Tony’s back to his chest and Tony has been fighting with himself for the past half an hour until he has finally given in, turned, and tried to touch Steve. 

“But you’re … still hard. Just let me, okay?” Tony whispers as his lips brush against Steve’s and he rubs the skin right above Steve’s waistband suggestively. 

Steve grabs Tony’s wrist and brings it up to eye level. He kisses Tony’s fingers one by one, unhurriedly, as if that’s the most important thing to do right at that second.

“Of course I am. Still. You’re kinda naked here, if you haven't noticed, and what we just did was crazy hot,” Steve whispers back, moving on to plant small kisses on Tony’s palm.

‘We’, as if Tony had any part in the way Steve took him to the end of the skies and brought him back, safe and sound. Which he did not have a part in, except for existing. Or for daring to buy that first drink for the most beautiful human being he had ever seen. 

“I’m honored that you feel that way, Steve. I truly am. I’m just hoping-- just let me show my absolute gratitude for how crazy hot it was for me, too.” 

Steve shakes his head. “No. Not this time. This time, I don’t want you to show any gratitude.” he reaches for Tony’s other hand and starts to kiss the fingers one by one.

He is being polite, right? There is no way that this creature, this body, those lips, that ingenious first-time-ever blowjob, is not after Tony’s gratitude. That just can’t be, or at least, it has never been like that for Tony, ever. 

But nothing about this peak of human perfection has been like anything Tony has ever experienced. He is something else altogether, from his eyes to his lips, and that perfect hair magically staying in place, even when he is having a nightmare. Or his words, the semi-socialist beliefs, feeling uncomfortable if someone spends too much money on him in times of crisis. And above all, the way he makes Tony feel when he kisses Tony’s lips or runs his hands through Tony’s hair or sucks his dick, for that matter.

And he is kissing Tony’s fingers right now.  
And he doesn’t want Tony to touch him in return. 

Tony can’t process that. Any of that. 

“But it’s not just for you,” Tony sighs. “I kinda… really like to… you know … touch you.” and he presses his nose to Steve’s shoulder, “It feels like an honor, to tell you the truth, that I’ve been allowed to in the first place. So anymore of it, is … kinda … yeah. I’d love to.”

Steve takes both of Tony’s hands in one of his and holds them on his chest. He smiles, one of those deeply pleased smiles, that crinkle the corners of his eyes and make him more beautiful if that’s physically possible. 

“Good. I am so happy about that. But please, can you just take one and not give one back? Once?”

Tony seems to have no options here, except for believing that Steve actually means what he is saying; that he actually doesn’t want anything back. It’s a gesture, a token, something oddly in context, and so precious. For once he can just have and not worry about anything else. 

He can do that. Maybe just this once, and so carefully so he doesn’t get used to it, but right here and right now, he will take this one. Happily.

“Just this once,” he says, as he buries his face in the crook of Steve’s neck. 

“Okay then,” Steve whispers as he smiles against Tony’s hair. “Just this once.” He pulls the covers over them, making sure Tony’s tucked in and warm, and presses Tony to his chest, gentle but firm. Tony closes his eyes, listening to Steve breathe in and out, and falls into a dreamless, deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it.  
> I appreciate each and every comment including the emojis, so please tell me what you think :)  
> I'm [avengersNewB](https://avengersnewb.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, come talk to me :)


	5. Day 4 - Secret Identities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Day 4 is here!  
> This chapter took a bit longer than I expected for some reason, I hope it is worth the wait :)
> 
> Thank you to everyone reading this so far. I would love to know how you feel about the fic, and I truly appreciate each and every comment. Your nice words make my day and they are truly my fuel to go on writing this daily. I love you all and I hope everyone stays safe and happy during this hard time.
> 
> We are still discussing the pandemic of the COVID-19 (although I have not mentioned the name so far) so please take care of yourself and don't read this fic if you don't want to be exposed to it.
> 
> Thank you to fiftyshadesofstony, and JehBeeEh for beta, guys you make my work readable and I really really appreciate your help <3<3<3

Steve asks for the same things they’ve had for breakfast yesterday, as some of it should be what Tony would want to eat. He can ask Tony for tomorrow maybe, and he can order the night before, so he doesn’t have to leave the bed before Tony wakes up. _If they sleep together tonight,_ he adds to himself, casually. 

Not a big deal. Whatever.

He finds himself moving things around to make them look nice on the table, but he doesn’t get a chance to feel embarrassed about it, as Tony shows up at the breakfast area, pulling a t-shirt over his head. He has that sleepy glow, his hair adorably mussed and Steve has to reach for the coffee pot to keep his hands busy; to not reach over and push Tony’s hair away from his forehead.

“You’re here? God, I panicked for a second, I thought--” and he cuts himself off, rubs his face and his hands start to fiddle with his t-shirt, straightening wrinkles that seem to be invisible.

Steve likes the idea of Tony missinghim in bed and looking slightly upset because of .it. That’s all in his head obviously, because why would Tony actually miss Steve? They’ve known each other for five seconds and Steve’s already been enough trouble for a lifetime. It’s not like he is Steve’s boyfriend or anything. 

No.

Of course not.

Steve should know much better than that. He is a grown-ass man, an adult for God’s sake, and he’d better get a hang of himself right this second before he makes things more awkward for either of them. So he does just that, he takes a deep breath and stops staring at the patch of skin that’s showing from the slightly skewed neckline of Tony’s t-shirt. He pours coffee in the matching cups he may or may not have taken a minute to find in the cupboard, before looking back at Tony with the fakest happy smile of his lifetime.

“Don’t worry, I am not gonna steal your stuff and run away. I was just really hungry,” and he tries to grin wider, hoping he doesn’t look creepy from trying too much.

Tony looks relieved, for whatever reason. He smiles back at Steve, takes a deep breath and sits as Steve gestures to the chair on Tony’s side of the table. 

“Oh come on, I know you won’t do that. I just wondered if something had gone wrong or something,” Tony says and he waves his hand in the air after he grabs the cup of coffee from Steve and puts it on the table, “I’m glad you were hungry though because to tell you the truth, I’m starving,” and he takes a bite from the blueberry bagel he picks from the pile. 

Steve is not obsessed with the idea of kissing Tony’s lips right at this moment. Or maybe he is but he can’t do anything about it, really. He smiles again instead - he will get muscle pain soon from all the fake smiling - as he spreads peanut butter on all five pieces of toast on his plate. 

“I am not really surprised. What did you eat yesterday?” Steve asks as he reaches for strawberry jam, which Tony picks up and hands to him.

“Um… coffee?”

“Coffee is not food. What is the last food item you remember having eaten yesterday?”

Tony finishes off the bagel, takes another sip of coffee, and twitches his face. “Ham and cheese sandwiches? I am sure it was more than one, so let’s say three?” 

Steve wants to push that ‘playing-dumb’ face to his chest. Or at least go over and kiss the top of his head and feed him another bagel. He can’t do any of those, obviously, so he spreads peanut butter on another three pieces of bread and goes with raspberry jam this time. “Two. and only because I shoved them in your face at four PM. I can’t believe you can eat so little food and do so much. I just don’t get how your body works.”

Tony laughs and his laugh lines deepen. Steve swallows at the sight, happy that he can conveniently pretend it’s something he has been chewing.

“Well, I guess it’s a superpower. I know, I forget to eat, I am guilty of that. That’s why I usually leave snacks around in my workshop and eat them when I spot them. Pepper will kill me if I pass out again from low blood sugar, so I am trying to stay alive.” and yes, thank God, he reaches for another blueberry bagel.

“It would be great to have a superpower that makes you not need food, I am kinda jealous. But it’s great that someone can make you eat, even if it’s by threatening to kill you. I already like Ms. Potts, very much.” Steve says, lightly, as he contemplates eating one more peanut butter sandwich.

“Ah, she is lovely. Sorta. If you go past the stone-cold exterior and the fact that she will cut your dick off if she catches you in the wrong. That’s actually a good thing though, so yeah she is my lifesaver. I would have been dead or bankrupt or both if it wasn’t for her.” Tony says with a fond smile, and he reaches for the coffee pot which Steve grabs first and pours Tony another cup.

“I am sure you would have managed,” Steve says, deciding to eat some fruit salad instead. He casually offers some to Tony before putting some on his plate. Tony nods, and Steve fails to wipe the triumphant grin off his face.

“Well, right now she is trying to resolve the issues I’ve created again for everyone by having a fucking life. I am a reckless billionaire no matter what, who goes around and gropes people in elevators during a pandemic not yet declared.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head, half-mocking, half actually sad. 

Steve shakes his head too. “No you are not,” and he smiles, not a fake one for a change, “There is nothing reckless about you, not when other people are concerned anyway. You’ve lost around two and a half billion dollars in the past three days, trying to help people. I've heard you say ‘my own trust’ or ‘my shares’ or ‘my fucking money’ too many times already. Oh, and ‘you don’t get a say when it’s not SI’s money’ too, even more.” 

Steve starts with his fruit salad, and so does Tony. They eat quietly for a minute or two, staring at each other, as if this, eating breakfast and sharing feelings, is something they do every single day.

As if they are boyfriends, Steve thinks, which they are _not_. The word has such a nice ring to it though, and Steve allows himself to think about it for a few more seconds, before shaking his head again, this time to push the fuzzy happiness fog away. “I am sorry, you are kinda loud on the phone, and I have nothing else to do, except for summing up the numbers you shout all day.” 

Tony smiles and something goes loose in Steve’s chest, as he leans forward and his palm covers Steve’s fingers. 

“It’s ok buddy, I never thought you might be a corporate spy or something. You look too innocent for that, to be honest.” and his smile goes lopsided again making Steve smile too.

“I know about the NDA too. It’s fine, I will sign as many as your legal department wants me to. You can bring them up whenever you get them. It’s okay. I understand.”

Tony leans back against his chair and considers Steve for a second, and Steve’s hand feels suddenly cold now that Tony’s fingers are not covering it. Tony then stands up and walks around the table. He stands next to Steve, wraps both arms around his shoulders and kisses the top of his head. For a short second, everything stills and goes quiet. The touch of Tony’s lips to Steve’s hair runs through his core like a bolt of lightning and sets his whole body on fire. Tony then says something, and the world has to unfreeze and start spinning again, before Steve can process Tony’s words. 

“It’s okay Steve. I’ve decided to trust you. For the same reason you’ve decided to trust me with-- with you, I’ve decided to trust you. With all of me.”

***

Steve is restless. He can’t sit. He can’t lie down or walk or work out for that matter. What Tony has said plays on repeat in his mind and he wishes he could tune it out but he just can’t. He thinks about it over and over and over again, until the words lose all meaning, but nothing makes sense. Why would Tony trust Steve? With _all of him_? Why has Steve decided to trust Tony in the first place? He can’t play the ‘being drunk’ card, at least with himself. 

Because it felt right, for the first time in forever, he tells himself for the hundredth time, to trust someone. Why would Tony feel the same way? He couldn’t. He definitely shouldn't.

Steve goes from room to room and reads the hotel guide about the penthouse. The sheets, the antique lamps, the original Nicole Eisenman hanging in the living area that Steve would have sworn was a replica. Even the tumbler he just had water in is by Waterford, worth as much as a whole set of living essentials to furnish a small studio, and that makes him more confused and frustrated.

What is he doing here? What the hell is this _thing_ that is happening and why on earth did it seem like a good idea to stay in Tony’s penthouse, or his arms or his life for that matter?

Because ‘it felt right’ can go fuck itself. Not everything that feels right turns out to be alright in the end. Steve is slipping. He is losing control. He is falling for-- he’s not gonna validate what he feels with words. Even in his own brain. No fucking chance.

He locks himself in his room to video chat with Nat, and he replies to all of Fury’s emails that have been left unread in his inbox forever. He talks to Clint, checks up on Sam, and even finishes four overdue mission reports, but the time seems to be stretching and it just does not pass.

He goes through the leftovers in the fridge and sorts out a few snack plates as soon as the water starts to run in Tony’s shower. It will not be weird, and even if it is he can brush it off, as not wanting to deal with Tony fainting just like Ms. Potts, or something along that line. Tony would eat and Steve would stop obsessing and it would be absolutely worth it. 

He leaves the plates on any and all empty, flat surfaces he can find, between all the notes and gadgets and things he doesn’t recognize. He pauses behind the bathroom door and his hand hovers on the doorknob. The image of Tony’s naked body sparkling with drops of water burns through his skin and a now-familiar heat swirls low in his body. The desire that’s been buzzing in the back of his mind since last night takes over him all of a sudden and he almost knocks, almost turns that knob, almost walks in. 

Almost.

Not quite though. He catches himself right on time, and he has to remind himself that not all things that feel right turn out alright in the end so many times before he can bring himself to let go of the doorknob, step away, and walk out of the room. 

Steve sits at the coffee table to draw the skyline on the west side of the hotel but he ends up scribbling swirling circles that he just does not want to look at. He looks under the coffee table and grabs a bunch of magazines that are probably very expensive and significant culturally, but skimming through, Steve can’t seem to find anything interesting. He is an inch away from generalizing rich people to be tasteless and boring when he finally gets to a special issue of TIME magazine. He takes one look at the cover and all the uneasiness and boredom melts away like snow in April sunshine. 

‘Iron Man, One Year after Gulmira’, Steve reads to himself as he runs his fingers over the red and gold letters. He can’t quite believe it. TIME has done an 83 page issue on Iron Man from 2009, and Steve had no idea.

He reads every word and studies every picture front to back and back to front and it’s starting to get dark outside when he finally looks up, with a stiff neck from the many hours of looking down. Tony is yelling at someone on the phone, this time in disbelief that there seems to be a toilet paper shortage in every supermarket across the US, and he is eating something, as Steve can hear him chew and swallow between broken screams. Steve stares at Tony through the bedroom door, trying to process the concept of toilet paper shortages but all he can think about is the perfect combination of red and gold metal with a shining blue light. The fact that Tony is going to investigate the production lines that could be repurposed to help essential item shortages is not graspable right now. Or the way his own stomach is rumbling, as he has not eaten since lunch. 

All he needs to do now is to draw.

Back in his room and surrounded by sketchpads, drawing pencils and his new charcoal set, that Nat had not forgotten to get from his apartment, Steve loses himself in countless sketches of those amazing curves and sharp lines, coming beautifully together in what represents so much more than aesthetic beauty. 

The armor means hope. It means resilience. Loyalty. Selflessness. It means rising above the literal situation and being there for the most vulnerable. It’s breathtaking. It’s phenomenal. 

Drawing the Iron Man armor is one of the most thrilling things Steve does in his life, and he would be happy to draw only the armor for the rest of his life. Putting the charcoal on paper to sketch the man behind the perfectly crafted mask though, that’s just bewildering.

He is the courage itself. He is grace and sympathy and the reason Steve can sit, eat or rest at least a little easier. He is the wings Steve doesn’t have and they reach places Steve can’t reach. He makes the world a better place, with no superpower, whatsoever, except for the power of his brain and his amazing, perfect soul.

As he draws sketches of ‘The Unknown Man behind the Iron Man’ one after the other, he ends up adding details to his usually vague features that he has never used before. The fluffy dark hair, for example, that just ends up on the paper on its own accord or the big eyes that seem very familiar but Steve can’t remember why. He even draws a red tie for one of the sketches, not certain where that one has come from, as no one stepping out of a suit of armor would be wearing a red tie. 

Things untangle with every stroke of color on the paper. Thinking about Iron Man puts things in perspective as always and Steve starts to see the bigger picture here. ‘Sometimes you gotta run before you can walk’ he remembers from the anonymous interview he's just read and he repeats it to himself as he finishes the very last drawing. It’s Iron Man - not the armor, just the man - and the sketch of the guy Steve has never seen before has ended up looking exactly like someone Steve can fully recognize now, for a reason his heart knows but his brain can’t yet process .

It feels right to trust Tony, his brain finally manages, just like it has always felt right to trust Iron Man. It’s the same instinct that has kept Steve’s heart a little warmer since that first image of Iron Man on that hospital TV, that Steve woke up to from his long, frozen nightmare. The same sense of faith, same wash of calm, same ease and comfort that made Steve lean over to kiss Tony that first time. 

That’s why they’ve become one in Steve’s mind. That's why he has drawn Tony instead of Iron Man.

It’s the same thing.  
And it feels right.

grabing the drawing, Steve doesn't try to clean up the charcoal and the color pencil dust from his face and hands. What feels right, might end up being the right thing to do. It might also not end up that way, but Steve will never know if he doesn’t walk this path. 

He walks the path between his bedroom and Tony’s, and knocks on the open door. His heart beats fast, faster than it ever has maybe, and he forgets to breathe in the few seconds it takes for Tony to get off the phone and turn to Steve.

“I want you to have this one,” Steve says, his voice lower than he expected as he holds out the sketch to Tony. Tony smiles and holds out his hand which is a silent gesture for a perfect invite.

Steve swallows as he starts to walk, “and I think I need to take a shower," sounding louder and more clear this time.

"With you."

Sometimes you gotta run before you can walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it.  
> I appreciate each and every comment, so please tell me how you feel about all of this :)
> 
> This is the [ Tumblr post for the fic ](https://avengersnewb.tumblr.com/post/613881389683703808/so-as-you-know-i-am-writing-a-two-weeks), in case you wanted to reblog it!  
> I'm [avengersNewB](https://avengersnewb.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, come talk to me :)


	6. Day 5 - Pining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone reading this so far. 
> 
> I would love to know how you feel about the fic, and I truly appreciate each and every comment. Your nice words make my day and they are truly my fuel to go on writing this daily. I love you all and I hope everyone stays safe and happy during this hard time.
> 
> We are still discussing the pandemic of the COVID-19 (although I have not mentioned the name so far) so please take care of yourself and don't read this fic if you don't want to be exposed to it.
> 
> Thank you to fiftyshadesofstony, and JehBeeEh for beta, guys you make my work readable and I really really appreciate your help <3<3<3 so many nice things upon youuuu :))

This must be a dream. 

It’s just impossible for it to be real, the way Steve melts under Tony’s touch, trembling with the brush of Tony’s lips, or the way the blush spreads from the tip of his nose to the back of his neck, as soon as Tony pulls the t-shirt over Steve’s head, and the back of his hand brushes over Steve’s nipples along the way. The way he just goes with Tony’s gentle nudge, the blush spreading down on his chest, smiling at Tony soft and pliant as Tony strips out of his clothes. How he holds his hands out and pulls Tony under the stream of the warm water that’s washing all the black stains from Steve’s body. 

Tony would love to flatter himself and pretend that it’s the miracle work of his fingers that are making Steve unwind like this, which most probably is not true. It’s an amazing sight though, and Tony makes a note to himself: Steve looks equally perfect standing at parade rest as he does most of the time, or at ease like right now, as if he hasn’t a care in the world. 

Tony has touched bodies before, too many to count maybe, but there is something wonderful about touching Steve. The idea of running his hands over Steve’s wet skin burns a line of fire through Tony’s spine, and a giddy sort of sensation fills his heart when his hands reach each other on Steve’s back. It feels like the first time Tony thinks, pressing Steve to himself and his cock twitches and leaks as he feels Steve’s erection against his. Steve hums softly into Tony’s hair, his flush getting darker under the hot water and the way he feels in Tony’s arms, warm, solid and trembling slightly is like nothing Tony has ever felt before.

Tony kisses Steve’s neck and nibbles on the perfect patch of pale skin under his ear. He tastes like honey for some reason, and it’s just not fair, because no one is supposed to taste this good even right after a shower. Steve’s humming turns into low moans, as Tony moves to lick his throat, and he closes his eyes and bites his bottom lip.

“Do you mind if I wash you?” Tony whispers into Steve’s ear before biting down on it. Steve nods, slowly, and it might be the crazy joy of all the first times or the way Steve’s blush gets even darker with the nod, but it makes Tony’s heart race in his chest, his head spinning for a few seconds. He takes a deep breath, and then another one, to calm himself down. The last thing he wants to do is pass out right now, or lose control. He has a task, a top priority mission, and he can do it. He could get through washing Steve’s gorgeous, flawless body without coming apart from the insane burning sensation that is running through him by just holding Steve this close. 

So he does that. He washes Steve. 

He rubs the shampoo onto Steve's hair, the one that smells like lavender because Steve smells like that one all the time. He is shy and careful at first, worried that he might make Steve uncomfortable, but Steve doesn’t seem to mind, because he smiles and tilts his head a little to give Tony better access. Tony presses his forehead to Steve’s, now that he can reach it, and giggles between the small kisses he plants on Steve’s nose when the shampoo runs into his eyes as he rinses Steve’s hair. 

He keeps his forehead on Steve’s a little longer, as they kiss and whimper in each other's arms and Tony could swear that this must be what heaven feels like, figuratively, the way Steve parts his lips and Tony’s tongue gets to taste his mouth. Steve rubs his hands up and down Tony’s back then, and it feels like fireworks along Tony’s skin. Tony might need to change his last statement after all, because this, this must be what heaven feels like, literally and figuratively.

Tony pushes on Steve’s sides with both hands as they finally break apart, and Steve turns without missing a beat, as if it’s the thousandth time that he is doing this with Tony’s direction. The idea of touching Steve for the thousandth time stays with Tony, as he runs his soapy hands on Steve’s back and he trembles with every shudder of Steve’s body as his hands slip from the base of his neck to the slight hollow of his waist. He is an unrealistic dreamer, as Pepper points out to him all the time, and a thousand is a nice round number anyway. 

It’s amazing how Tony’s hands start to shake when they reach Steve’s ass. It’s a novel moment for Tony as much as it would be for Steve, and Tony is thrilled and terrified at the same time. He does his best to be especially careful, as he slides his palm on Steve’s ass, and God, it’s firm and smooth and so fucking perfect that Tony wants to squeal with joy. He runs his palm on each of Steve’s cheeks, in small circles and watches the way Steve’s body tremors from the start to the end of each motion. Tony wraps his other hand around Steve to keep him still and he goes on drawing small circles on Steve’s ass. It’s just a breathtaking scene to witness; the way Steve is coming apart in Tony’s arms, hard and blushing, from Tony's touch alone, with just one hand.

Moving down, Tony’s fingers caress the inside of Steve’s thighs, slide through the crease of his ass and cup his balls just for a second. Steve whimpers and moans and an extreme rush of arousal runs from Tony’s chest right into his cock. He can’t help doing it again, and again and one more time until Steve can’t seem to hold his weight up straight anymore. He stumbles forward just a couple of inches and his hands find the wall for support as Tony keeps touching his balls, they both shivering from the sensation. Steve lets out a startled cry as Tony’s other hand moves up a bit and starts rubbing on his pecs. He breathes short and heavy when Tony’s fingers find his nipples and Tony’s breath comes short and heavy too, he is lightheaded again and can’t remember if he has ever been turned on like this. 

The urge of being close, even closer than this, swirls in his body and sits low in his core, making his cock leak and jerk and suddenly all he wants to do in the world is to feel Steve around him. He leans forward a bit to press his lips to Steve’s ears and he hopes that Steve can hear and understand his breathless question. “May I?” 

It’s ridiculous. There is no way that Steve would understand what Tony is asking permission for. Tony barely knows himself and there is no chance in hell he can word what’s in his mind right now, maybe not ever. As it turns out, though, Steve seems to actually understand. Amazing, beautiful Steve that leaves snacks around Tony’s room and makes him look much better than what he actually does in that perfect little drawing; the guy who can move all seven boxes of Tony’s things into the penthouse by himself but turns into a mass of flushed warmth under Tony’s hands in a heartbeat. He understands and nods, his cheek moving against Tony’s in the most soothing way and holy fucking mother of fuck; he bends down a little and parts his legs. 

For a few long seconds, Tony can’t think. He can’t move or speak and seems unable to even breathe. How on earth does this mountain of beautiful softness not belong to someone already? How could one meet Steve and not want to keep his hair and his lips and his beautiful caring heart and the way he opens his body and soul, just like right now, all to himself? How on earth has this become possible, that he has dropped from the sky right behind the counter of that bar, and decided to give all of that to Tony, just randomly? It can’t be random, Tony chants to himself, as he breathes in and out and he can’t quite tell if it’s the astonishing sensation of Steve’s thighs around his cock that blows his mind as soon as he pushes in or the realization that it might not be random, that there might be something special about Tony, at least as far as Steve’s concerned.

Tony kisses Steve’s cheek. He kisses his ear and his hair and the soft spot on the side of his neck. Steve turns to press his lips to Tony’s and his soft murmurs turn into broken whimpers when Tony’s fingers wrap around his cock, rubbing gently. Tony’s heart is racing in his chest, the blood roaring in his ears as he starts to move as slowly as he possibly can and stops beating altogether, at least for some time, when Steve starts to move in the same rhythm, slow but certain. 

Everything moves into place after that. Tony can’t think about anything else, even when he tries to, and his brain is quiet, completely, for what might be the first time in forever. It’s all Steve and the way his body feels so close to Tony’s. The way his thighs envelop Tony’s cock as he slides back and forth between them, the way he moans and gasps for air as Tony’s hand picks up speed around his cock, how they are close, so close that it feels they are one. How it’s pleasure and nothing but pleasure, from the point where their bodies meet all the way through to eternity.

Steve cries out loud as he comes in Tony’s hand. Tony comes right after as they both go limp and loose, Steve collapsing onto the wall and Tony onto Steve. Tony holds on to Steve with both hands, and Steve holds onto Tony’s hands with both of his. They stay like that until they start to get cold, so Tony turns the water back on before laying his head on Steve’s back again. He is vaguely aware that he is supposed to move and be responsible, like every other second of his life, but right now, he is holding Steve, and Steve is holding him and someone is saying something low and sweet. It might be Tony who’s chanting Steve’s name, or Steve saying Tony’s. Or both, perhaps, low and sweet, and together.

***

“Do you like Italian?” Tony asks as he lies down on the bed.

Steve curls his feet around Tony’s legs and wraps his arm around Tony’s waist. “I am not picky with food really,” he says with a smile, and pulls Tony closer, pressing Tony to his chest.

Tony looks into Steve’s eyes and wonders if they change color slightly as the day goes on. “Is that a yes, or is that a no?”

“It’s a yes, I love Italian food. I am just trying to say I am easy.”

“Easy ha? And you tell me now, while I’ve been trying so fucking hard to get into your pants,” and he leans forward to kiss Steve’s nose, which is starting to flush red again.

“Oh God, that came out all wrong,” and he throws his head back as he laughs, tightening his hold around Tony, so they are both shaking with the power of Steve’s laughter for a few seconds. “I thought the fact that you picked me up from a bar, and we got caught on camera in a public elevator should have been good hints for you,” Steve says in the most endearing way possible, and Tony’s heart fills with some sort of liquid happiness. 

“I am honored, Steve. I can’t begin to figure out why, but I am happy out of my mind that you were, you know, easy with me,” and he presses his lips against Steve, watching the way Steve gets lost into the kiss before he is lost himself too in the way Steve’s mouth tastes like a Tuscany spring morning which is oddly specific but exactly true.

“So if you do love Italian food, how about I make some for you?” Tony says, doing his best not to get overwhelmed by the way Steve suddenly seems absolutely startled, “You know, as a thank you, for making sure I don’t die from hunger,” and he searches Steve’s face as if knowing how he feels about what Tony had said would give him a chance to change it in any way, “I’ll get J to organize delivery, and I’ll let you do the dishes.” 

‘Let you do the dishes’? Really? This must be the most stupid thing he has said asking someone out, (and he has said some very stupid things, which Rhodey is keeping a list of) and he is not even asking Steve out. It’s just a pasta that Tony is planning to make, from his mom’s special recipe he has only ever made for Pepper once on their first anniversary. It’s not a big deal, not at all, and why can’t he just say something else to gloss over the stupid dishes comment? Why, why, why is Steve taking so long to say something? 

“You’ll let me do the dishes, ha?” Steve frowns, and Tony’s heart drops like a stone. “So is it some sort of an honor to be allowed to wash your dishes?” 

He is joking, right? What if he is not joking? Shit, what if Tony has actually offended him? It’s not like he can pack up and go-- wait-- he actually can pack up and--

“I don’t think I can say no to that then.” Steve smiles and starts to rub Tony’s spine. “It’s kinda hot you know,” he says, and his hand comes up to rest on Tony’s nape, “to be able to wash your dishes.”

And Tony doesn’t care if the way he squeezes Steve until he starts making funny noises is too obvious anymore.

***

Steve’s asleep in Tony’s arms. Tony is still kissing his hair, long after, and he’s thinking about the number that had passed his mind back in the shower. A thousand sounds like it’s so many touches but come to think of it, it might not be that many. If Tony manages to get his hands on Steve one way or another 2.7 times a day, it would only take a year to reach the one thousand mark. All it takes is a morning sleepy cuddle, a goodbye kiss before he leaves for work and a ‘honey, I'm home’ kiss maybe when he comes back. He doesn’t even need to count all the snuggling in front of the TV and watching whatever nonsense that would be on. Steve seems like someone who would watch fighting movies, but Tony bets he is into rom-coms as well, and who cares really, as long as Tony can wrap his arms around Steve and lay his head on his chest.

Counting like that makes Tony realize that one thousand is not enough. Not even barely there. Five thousand maybe? Ten? How many times would he have touched Steve after a lifetime? A lot. He doesn’t want to count. He can go without knowing, with keeping it open and hopeful as long as it comes to Steve.

He can do this. 

He can keep his heart open, and hope for the best, despite the solid scientific evidence that proves him to be wrong to even try. The science can bend just this once, Tony thinks as he pulls the covers over them. He presses Steve to his chest, and thinks about the fact that no one can be wrong to at least try, before he falls into a dreamless, deep sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it.  
> I appreciate each and every comment, so please tell me how you feel about all of this :)
> 
> This is the [ Tumblr post for the fic ](https://avengersnewb.tumblr.com/post/613881389683703808/so-as-you-know-i-am-writing-a-two-weeks), in case you wanted to reblog it!  
> I'm [avengersNewB](https://avengersnewb.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, come talk to me :)


	7. Day 6 - Falling in Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all of you beautiful people who are reading this, I appreciate your support and I really hope this brings a smile to your lips in this hard period we are all going through. I totally have that in mind when I am writing this, and I don't mind making our boys a little bit too gooey and hopeful, because that's what this fic is about, happy, warm place to forget about all the none hopeful and non gooey that is going on out there :)
> 
> Tell me what you think please, your comments, even the shortest ones give me motivation to keep writing. Ideas and headcanons also welcome, because we have half a fic to go and there are only so many sexy things I can come up with for one single fic on my own :)))
> 
> We are still discussing the pandemic of the COVID-19 (although I have not mentioned the name so far) so please take care of yourself and don't read this fic if you don't want to be exposed to it.
> 
> Thank you to fiftyshadesofstony, and JehBeeEh for beta, guys I am so grateful for your help, <3<3<3
> 
> OH AND BY THE WAY, there is a funny point in this chapter. Tell me if you spot it, the first person with the correct answer ... will be forced to suffer reading through more words from me :)) aka a small fic based on a prompt of your choice :)

Steve looks at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and shakes his head. 

This is the third T-shirt he’s tried on and for some reason, all of his clothes look unflattering this afternoon. He has not been this nervous about how he looks for many many years and even then he never had to pick an outfit, as he would always wear his uniform anyway. 

This is all Natasha’s fault, well at least partly, because she found it funny to pack all of Steve’s plain white t-shirts for these two weeks, to get her point across maybe, that Steve does actually need some help in that area. Steve takes off the T-shirt he’s wearing to put on another one, which looks exactly the same, and pouts with frustration before he kicks himself mentally. This is not a date, he reminds himself for the five hundredth time, even if Tony has declined Steve’s offer to help cook or set the table and has said that he will _pick_ _Steve up_ at 7.

The fourth plain white t-shirt looks worse than the first three. Steve runs his hand on the back of his neck and wonders if he should go back to the first plain white one; he is not planning to wear a button-up shirt to this date--dinner, or whatever.

***

There is no milk or cream in Carbonara, Tony explains as he puts a couple of pieces of garlic bread on Steve’s plate. He doesn’t ask if Steve wants any, or how many. He just reaches over and puts them there, as if this is the 200th time they’re having Italian together. Steve’s heart flutters in his chest, a familiar swirl going through his core before he is distracted with the way Tony is smiling back, his face lighting up in one of those perfect whole-face smiles that Steve has come to love so much. 

Like. _Like_ so much, he tells himself as he listens to Tony explaining the theory of Carbonara's origin being related to Carboneria, and he repeats it to himself that he _likes_ the way Tony’s eyes get wider with surprise as Steve talks about the ‘secret society of coal miners’ and speaks a few sentences in Italian. 

Steve gets lost in the short gap between past and present for a second, forgetting himself in the taste and the images and the feelings. He almost tells Tony about the actual origin of the dish being the abundance of egg and bacon in Rome after the US troops took over in 1945, but he catches himself just in time, settling for comparing what Tony has made to what he has had in Rome at an undeclared point in time. 

This is not a date, definitely not, but Tony keeps asking all the first date questions. He frowns when Steve says he can't disclose his age and narrows his eyes because Steve can’t really disclose his job either. It is weird and kinda funny the way his eyes go to normal size and then pop with surprise when Steve says he is in the business of global security and the fact that Tony jumps to the possibility of Steve being _Batman_ out of all the superheroes is outright hilarious. Steve sighs and wishes he actually was Batman because he seems to be Tony’s favorite, even if his mask seems too uncomfortable and he has to fight in a cape, which Steve does not even want to begin to think about.

Steve asks about Tony’s shouting match with the White House earlier and Tony’s face goes hard for a second. The president has denied the financial relief package proposed by a symposium of his largest donors including Stark Industries although he was scheduled to sign and announce it that afternoon. Steve can’t believe that Tony would donate to this president's campaign, and Tony explains that it’s not up to him, that it’s been a company policy forever to donate the same amount of money to both presidential candidates so they have an equal amount of support, whichever gets elected to the office.

Tony tells Steve about his mom, and how they always made Carbonara together, how it was Tony’s job to mix the egg and cheese and that’s why he can make this perfection of creamy richness with no milk added. Steve smiles and teases Tony about narcissism, but admits that the pasta is absolutely perfect. Tony smiles and Steve wishes he could just reach over the table and kiss Tony’s perfect laugh lines.

Steve finishes his plate, and three more pieces of garlic bread, and is wondering if it would be rude to ask for more when Tony offers to get him more pasta. He doesn’t reach over to grab Steve’s plate though. He walks around, wraps his hands around Steve’s shoulders and kisses him until he can’t breathe anymore.

***

“No apron? That’s a deal-breaker, Mr. Rogers, I take my invitation back.”

Steve tries hard to go along and keep the bubbling laughter within. He turns over his shoulder, raises his hand and sways it slightly from side to side. “Rubber gloves?” 

Tony walks the distance between the kitchen entrance and the sink and puts a quick kiss on Steve’s nose. “Well, not the same. I seriously wanted to watch you wash the dishes wearing an apron, but I guess we have to do with what we got,” and he wraps his hands around Steve’s waist and leans in for a long kiss, that is soft and slow but leaves Steve hot all over and panting for air. 

“Okay turn around, get back to your dishes,” Tony teases as he gently pushes his chin to the side of Steve’s face, and Steve turns to the sink and back to the dishes. 

Tony’s hands roam on Steve’s abs to find his first shirt button. Steve does his best to focus on the dishes as Tony undoes the buttons one by one. 

“You would look perfect, you know, wearing an apron,” he whispers in Steve’s ear, the blow of his warm breath making the hair stand on the back of Steve’s neck. “Just the apron, with a tiny little knot at the back. God, I can’t believe I missed out on that sight.” He takes a deep breath as if he is imagining Steve’s naked body from behind and the idea burns a blend of shame and thrill through Steve’s neck all the way to the pit of his belly. He takes a deep breath, holding on to the edge of the sink to keep steady, as Tony runs his hands on his chest and has to bite his lip as Tony’s fingers brush over his nipples. 

“Oh sorry, am I distracting you? I should probably stop then, don’t want to keep you from it, really,” and he chuckles, as he gives Steve’s nipple a gentle pinch before letting go. 

For a few seconds, Steve feels like he is floating in unknown territory. His brain is not processing at full speed and he is not sure if he is understanding properly. Is he actually supposed to continue washing the dishes while Tony’s hands are on him? He takes another deep breath and looks at Tony’s hands, resting on his abs. It’s a game, he tells himself, a little challenge that Steve would not back down from. It’s also something Tony wants and that makes everything else far less important. Tony never wants anything, not for himself anyway, and the idea of giving something to Tony that he has actually asked for makes Steve’s head spin a little. He lets go of the edge of the sink to take a plate out of the sink and he is grateful for Tony’s arms around him because he doesn’t think he can stand steady anymore.

“Steve,” Tony whispers in his ear, shaky and breathless, “you’re just--” he can’t form any more words as his fingers find Steve’s nipples again and Steve shudders in a flood of sensation. It takes a minute, or an hour, Steve can’t be quite sure, for Tony to rub and pinch and flick Steve’s nipples before Steve can’t hold it together any longer. 

Tony’s hands slide down and start to unbuckle Steve’s belt. “You’re just beautiful. Firm and strong and so perfectly muscled and yet it takes a gentle touch to that perfect hair, to make you blush to the back of your neck.” Steve can’t decide what he needs to focus on; Tony’s words, or the way he sucks at the base of Steve’s neck, his fingers rolling over the tip of Steve’s cock or the dishes that he has magically managed to wash and pile up on top of each other and are waiting to be rinsed.

The dishes, he tells himself as he breathes in and out. That’s the only thing that Tony wants him to do so all Steve needs to focus on is turning on the water and rinsing the dishes. Tony wraps one hand around Steve’s cock, stroking slowly, as his other hand pushes Steve’s pants down. “You are just gorgeous, you know that?” Tony murmurs against the back of Steve’s neck, “ you are blushing all the way down to here,” and his other hand moves down and starts rubbing Steve’s balls. “How are you even real? How could someone be so beautiful inside and out? I just --” and he breaks off again, distracting Steve from the dishes too with the perfect pace rubbing Steve’s cock and massaging his balls, and for a long minute it’s pleasure perfection as Tony kisses the side of Steve’s face and mirrors Steve’s moans one by one. 

“Why, I am sorry, am I distracting you again?” Tony says, but his words are barely playful this time. He can’t hold it together either, Steve muses, the way his erection is pressed to Steve’s back, and he is as breathless and flustered as Steve, even if Steve can only judge with the quarter of his brain still operational. Steve’s hands get back to work as if of their own accord with the gentle reminder though, and Tony hums happily as he gets back to orchestrating Steve’s perfect pleasure. 

Steve’s managed to rinse more than half of the dishes when Tony’s fingers slide between his cheeks, suddenly warm and sleek. That’s what the quick weird noise must have been a couple of minutes ago, right before Tony’s hands had moved away from Steve’s balls and toward his back. The steam of last night’s memories cloud Steve’s mind, as Tony slips his finger back and forth in between Steve’s thighs and then, just then, Tony’s fingers brush over Steve’s hole out of nowhere and Steve cries out, almost dropping the wine glass he’s rinsing, as his hands go numb and he starts shaking.

“May I?” Tony asks, soft and gentle and Steve has to bite down a sob before he can get a hang of himself long enough to tilt his head in what should hopefully form an unsteady nod. “Tell me, Steve, with words please. May I touch you like this?” 

Steve wants to cry. He is trembling all over and everything is suddenly too overwhelming. The dinner, the game, the way Tony is moving him to the core and keeping him steady, it’s soft and it’s fierce. It’s a fiery blaze and a deluge of water that burns and heals; heaven and hell at the same time, too much and not nearly enough.

“We don’t have to do it now.” Tony whispers, kind and reassuring in Steve’s ear, “we can do it tomorrow, or next week,” and he kisses Steve’s cheek, as the final gesture, the last message, “it’s okay if you don’t want to do it at all. Just tell me. I’ll do as you say.”

“Please,” Steve finally manages, his voice sounding odd in his own ears, “I do... want you to,” and he closes his eyes, leaning back into Tony’s frame because he is dizzy and light-headed and he can’t hold on anymore.

So Tony does as Steve says, as he promised. It’s just a touch, a brush, same as when he caresses Steve’s cheek or the back of his neck, but it’s there, Tony’s finger is there, moving and pushing gently but consistently and the circular pointed motion is lightning and thunder turning Steve’s whole body into one exposed nerve.

“This--fuck--this feels--” Tony is as incomprehensible as Steve would be if he had to talk right now. He doesn’t have to talk though; he can just be. He can just exist, between Tony’s hands rubbing his cock and massaging his hole, right on the edge of the mystery land that Steve’s taken so long to finally find. So long but the exact right amount; to wait, to trust, to linger on the edge with his rubber-gloved hands in a sink of the dirty dishes. It feels exactly right because Tony is there and he is kissing Steve’s jaw, holding Steve through it all, with his wonderful words and his breathtaking touch.

“This feels so amazing, Steve, you -- you feel so amazing,” Tony says, as he pushes just a tad more, and Steve’s brain comes to a halt, the way Tony’s finger is inside him, barely but still, and Steve wonders if he will pass out, if he will come apart in full and stop existing. 

He doesn’t cease to exist, at least for another few minutes, as Tony slides his finger inside further and further and further and all that Steve can feel, is just that, the way he is opening up to let Tony in, no control, no thoughts, just the sensation; intense, incredible, extraordinary.

He does finally come apart. With Tony’s finger sliding out and pressing in gently a couple more times, and his hand sliding over Steve’s cock in perfectly timed strokes, between Tony’s kisses and the words that make no sense but feel like kisses to Steve’s soul, when Tony’s finger enters Steve one last time, a flash of lightning burns Steve’s core and he falls from the edge into the land of mystery in blazing trails of magical fireworks.

***

Tony asks Steve to stay the nightbecause he did such an amazing job with the dishes, and Steve bursts into laughter before accepting on one condition. The condition makes Tony laugh and blush which Steve has never seen before, and he makes a mental note: blushing is a perfect look on Tony.

He takes all Tony’s clothes off and kisses his body, inch by inch, before resting his head on Tony’s chest to kiss and lick the stunning scars. Tony’s breath hitches and his words become unintelligible as Steve’s fingers move around his cock and he comes in Steve’s hand moaning and shaking, as he clings to Steve like Steve is the only one, like Steve is all he’s got in the world.

***

Steve is sleepy. Gloriously beaten up, rung and stretched in the best possible way and happy, giddy with the strange sensation that rolls through his body with every single move of his hips. It’s a presence, a shadow, a reminder of what has happened and it hurts in the most perfect way with every word, every smile, and every breath.

Tony’s been asleep for a while, curled into Steve, his hair brushing on Steve’s lips and his breath warm and rhythmic on Steve’s neck. Steve smells Tony’s hair absentmindedly and thinks about his question. 

Tony doesn’t care that they have been sharing a bed for almost a week. That they’ve kissed and talked and ate and slept together over and over and over again. This guy, who makes Steve his mom’s pasta and yells at the chief of staff to the president of the United States, who gives so much he forgets he deserves to receive things too, who is gentle and kind and always has a second to kiss Steve’s nose in between his crazy hectic days; he doesn’t care if Steve is half-naked and fully hard, if Steve is panting and shaking in his arms. He doesn’t assume, doesn’t take silence for consent, he doesn’t even accept nodding and gestures. He needs words, actual solid words to take the next step and he will ask every single time, and Steve loves that about him.

Love, he _loves_ that about Tony. Among many other things, like his whole-faced smile and his scarred chest, his smart mouth and fantastic brain, his selflessness and the never-ending quest for growth even in the times of a pandemic and the way he doesn’t think twice before giving himself away if it helps someone else, piece by piece and bit by bit. 

Steve pulls the covers over them and makes sure that Tony is tucked in and warm. He loves the way it all feels right with Tony, he tells himself as he closes his eyes and presses Tony to his chest, just a bit further. 

He loves Tony. 

_Love_ , he repeats to himself before he falls into a dreamless, deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> DID YOU FIND THE THING I MENTIONED IN THE BEGINNING NOTES? I'll give you a hint, it's got to do with what Steve's wearing :)
> 
> I appreciate each and every comment, so please tell me how you feel about all of this :)
> 
> This is the [ Tumblr post for the fic ](https://avengersnewb.tumblr.com/post/613881389683703808/so-as-you-know-i-am-writing-a-two-weeks), in case you wanted to reblog it!
> 
> I'm [avengersNewB](https://avengersnewb.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, come talk to me :)


	8. Day 7 - Crushes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much, to all of you people who are reading this, I appreciate your support and I really hope this brings a bit of joy to your heart in the difficult time we are all going through. 
> 
> Tell me what you think please, your comments, even the shortest ones give me the motivation to keep writing. 
> 
> For all the lovely people who figured out that Steve said he won't wear a button-down just to end up having Tony unbutton his shirt as he was washing the dishes, well I love you all, I am so happy you let me know and it was so much fun <3 I owe every one of you a short fic, send me an ask and I'll write them, slowly but surely :)
> 
> I should warn everyone that I am using a rather harsh tone about the President of the United States in this chapter, and please if you don't like to read that, skip this. 
> 
> Also, as usual, we are discussing COVID-19 pandemic without mentioning the name, so if you don't want to be exposed to that topic, please take care of yourself and don't read this one.
> 
> Thank you to fiftyshadesofstony, and JehBeeEh for beta, guys I am so grateful for your help, <3<3<3

“Can I help?”

Tony looks up from the coffee Steve has just left on the desk, along with the blueberry pancakes he must have ordered last night. Steve’s holding his mug in the hand he is leaning on against the door, and is rubbing the back of his neck with the other. Spending the past 7 days with him, Tony already can tell that this is Steve’s _‘I’m terrified but can’t back away from the challenge’_ gesture. 

Tony wishes that he was doing something else right now; something where he could happily take Steve up on his offer to help. And it’s not like he can’t start _that thing_ any second, but Steve’s expression is a different kind of flustered, and Tony does his best to go with a different cool and casual response. “Help _me_?”

Steve lets go of the back of his neck. “Well, yes? It’s just that… it’s just that I feel, you know, useless. Going around here all day, listening to you trying to save the world with the snap of your fingers,” he mutters a little shakily and Tony feels a sudden urge to kiss better the unhappiness that is wrinkling Steve’s forehead. Steve’s lips press into a thin line and he looks down, as he continues, too sad for Tony’s liking. “My job is not exactly the kind you can do from home, and I try, you know, to be there for my team. Move things around to improve their insurance or up the living arrangements SHIE-- our employer has come up with for those who are not based in New York. But aside from checking on them like once a day and playing house husband here, I do nothing to help people.”

Tony takes a deep breath. “First of all, I had no idea you lead a team and I think you should always start with that, because it’s damn hot.” He smiles as he wiggles an eyebrow and Steve’s face unwrinkles a little as he smiles back with his eyes. “Secondly, you do realize that you’ve donated an exorbitant amount of money to the Maria Stark Foundation special pandemic fund right? Four Seasons is matching dollar for dollar and it already adds up to around--” 

“$150k. Yes, I know that but you wouldn't have to spend this much money if it wasn’t for me. This-” Steve sways his finger between them “-this has nothing to do with me. It’s your money and your connections, I just happened to be standing there in the corner.” And he sighs as he goes back to rubbing the back of his neck.

That’s it for cool and casual, Tony tells himself as he gets off his chair and does his best to not run, just walk. “It has everything to do with you, Steve,” he whispers as he lays his head on Steve’s chest forgetting why he is holding Steve altogether, for a second at least, because Steve brings up his free hand and presses Tony to himself. “And a househusband without an apron? Pffft. Definitely not.”

***

The first job that comes to Tony’s mind is not very appropriate and he doesn’t even bring it up as a joke after Steve spends 22 minutes explaining his main skills that don’t involve punching people for global security. He doesn’t take the bait to elaborate on his actual job though, and Tony doesn’t have enough brain capacity to obsess, because he is sitting so close to Steve that he can smell the faint Lavender scent off his hair, and it’s hard to focus on much else right now. He gives Steve a list of a few ideas he hasn’t got a second to plan out yet, and hooks Steve up with one of the SI interns, resisting the impulse to ask for a ‘not so attractive one’. Pepper rolls her eyes and huffs a few times but she doesn’t exactly object to the idea of giving Steve something to do, for whatever reason that’s far beyond Tony.

Steve’s eyes light up when he reads the items on the list and the crinkles on the corner of his eyes make Tony’s heart swoon happily. He presses a kiss on Tony’s forehead before disappearing, and Tony wonders how long it has taken him to open his eyes after he has squeezed them shut to revel in the sensation of Steve’s lips on his skin.

*** 

Steve is not around.

He doesn’t pass by Tony’s door on his way to the kitchen, around 27 times, as he does each day on average, and doesn’t go back with some sort of edible things on a plate. He doesn’t sit at the dining table with his sketchbook, and there is no listening to him humming absentmindedly as he runs the pencil against the paper. He doesn’t stretch in the living room, in the spot between the coffee table and TV, that Tony likes to think Steve usually uses because it’s in Tony’s direct line of sight. No push-ups, no chest presses, and no mouth-watering amazing pecs showing through sweaty t-shirts, regrettably.

He is busy, obviously, and he seems happy the few times he does, in fact, show up at Tony’s door, with random questions about the number of StarkPads SI can refurbish in a week, or to let Tony know that Mr. Osbourne is happy to join the ‘stay at home celebrity video chat’ initiative, as long as Tony gives him a call himself. 

Steve doesn’t seem to have exaggerated on his skills; the _lean canvas_ for providing mask sewing essentials to volunteer households that he emails to Pepper around midday is just flawless and the initial approval of $100k funding from Scholastic to start the ‘Kids at Home’ educational video channel that shows up in Tony’s inbox shortly after is kinda impossible. The way Steve never forgets to include his gratitude for Amy’s help in each and every one of his 18 unbelievably polite but sharp emails, makes Tony’s heart do a happy dance and Tony makes a mental note: Steve does not take shit from anyone, even if they happen to be the Secretary of the Treasury of the United States of America.

***

“Why are we watching Fox News?” Tony rolls his eyes and shuffles in his seat, trying to move a little closer to Steve as subtly as he can and he takes another bite from the turkey garlic bread sandwich that tastes much better than it sounds. Steve’s constant battle against food waste is absolutely noble but it’s also endearing and hot as fuck, and he must have done it so many times because whatever he cooks up from the leftovers is absolutely amazing. 

“Well I can’t find any other news channels,” Steve says as he places a quick kiss on Tony’s cheek and then turns to the TV, taking a bite from his own sandwich.

Tony watches him chew and swallow, and it’s right in that second when he finally decides it’s appropriate to lick the small bit of strawberry jam off Steve’s chin, that a familiar monotone voice echoes in the room and, well, nothing can be more of a turn off than the sound of the drawled words of the leader of the free world. Tony rolls his eyes one more time as he turns to the TV. “Why are we watching this again?”

“What, you don’t appreciate the daily propaganda briefings?” Steve chuckles, and Tony can’t quite decide which one he loves more; the wit of what he says or the sweet ring of his tone as he says it.

‘ _So I was not going to approve this stimulus package, because at first, it did not seem to be a great package..._ ’ 

Wait, what package is this? It’s not their 3+1 fund package that the president would _never consider signing again,_ right?

_‘... this guy, a very very good friend of mine, a superhero of war, he called me and we had a great chat...’_

War superhero? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Rhodey is obviously a war hero but last time Tony checked he was not on speaking terms with the president, at all. 

‘... _agree with him that this package is in the best interest of this great nation, as long as the proposing symposium holds their end of the deal, to provide the funds, the Stark Company and my buddy Mr. Osborne, and the rest of you good men. It’s your turn now_.’

That’s it. 

Just like that, the president disappears from the screen as he is not taking any questions, and Tony stares at Bret Baier moving his lips without really hearing his voice. He then turns to Steve, doing his best to keep his mouth from hanging open and spends the next few seconds staring at Steve as he scrolls through the channels, trying to figure out what on earth just happened and why, until Steve plays some 30s playlist on YouTube and finally turns to Tony. He doesn’t look surprised though, Tony thinks, but he seems happy and he is slightly blushing but Tony doesn’t get a chance to wonder why. Steve is looking at him with a sparkle in his eyes and he is smiling with his whole face as he wraps his hands around Tony’s to pull him close, and the next thing Tony knows, he is, well, sitting on Steve’s lap. Casually. 

“He is releasing the stimulus package, huh? I guess…congratulations?” Steve kisses Tony’s forehead. The delight of the unexpected win, blends with Steve’s passionate embrace and Tony’s heart starts to race in response.

He cradles the back of Steve’s head and runs his fingers through his hair. “Did you see that?! How on earth did that happen? My phone must be ringing mad right now, good thing it’s on silent, but there is literally no one I could think of that could have won this dickhead over.” 

Steve kisses Tony’s forehead again and trails down, slowly, as he kisses the line of Tony’s nose. “A friend maybe?”

Tony shakes his head before he brushes his lips, softly against Steve’s. “No one I know has a friend who can make 45 do something he doesn’t want to. That's a hell of a friend though, I wish I actually had one of those.” 

Steve kisses Tony’s lips back, sending a prickle down Tony’s spine. “A secret admirer then?”

Tony chuckles, as he rests his forehead on Steve’s. “Someone who knows about the deal, has the president indebted to this extent _and_ is tasteful enough to admire me?” He kisses Steve’s forehead, trails down slowly, kissing the line of Steve’s nose. “Don’t think I am that lucky to have such an admirer, Steve.”

Steve narrows his eyes as he brings his hands up Tony’s back and the prickling sensation shoots up Tony’s spine this time. Steve then pouts in a fake displease and a million tiny bubbles fill the inside of Tony’s chest. “So what about me? Not feeling lucky that I admire you?” And his pout turns into a soft smile and crinkles to the corner of the eyes.

Tony thinks about what Steve just said for a moment. He smiles and pulls Steve in to rest his forehead on his again so he can stare into his eyes, not caring much about what it means to stare into a guy’s eyes like that and he echoes Steve’s words to himself a few more times, just to be sure, that he has, in fact, said it out loud that he ‘admires’ Tony.

“I do feel lucky,” he whispers, his voice suddenly hoarse, his skin burning all over, “can’t even begin to tell you how much.” 

***

Steve kisses Tony slowly.

It’s gentle and soft, and so heartbreakingly intimate with no rush, no deadline, no one dying on Tony’s watch or because he has not done enough. It’s just Steve, and the way he melts little by little as Tony kisses him back, how he tenderly brushes his tongue over Tony’s lips, burning a line of fire down his neck right into his heart. All else becomes insignificant, with the way they taste each other, over and over and over again, how they nibble, suck, bite; the way they just _stay_ , for an hour or five maybe, and they kiss, and kiss and then kiss some more.

It’s dark outside when they are finally naked and it’s only because of the flickering lights of the TV, that Tony can revel in the sight that is Steve’s full-body blush, Or his slightest trembles as Tony kisses his throat, his neck, and his chest. Steve lifts his head to look at Tony with the most endearing blend of confusion and despair when Tony takes them both in hand and Steve’s breathing gets short and heavy as he falls back onto the couch when Tony’s strokes quicken. Tony’s vision is blurry by that point. He is hazy and dazed, but he does his best to take in the way Steve closes his eyes and throws his head back, moaning and shaking and how he opens them to look at Tony just before he comes undone. It’s right then, when Tony finally lets go too, as Steve pulls him in, placing sloppy kisses on Tony’s lips and cheeks and hair as they come, tangled in each other and the colors dancing in Steve’s eyes take Tony’s breath away, although he has no breath left in him anyway. It’s a bliss, a joy, a different kind of content. It’s a flood of warmth that washes over Tony instead of washing him up because Steve is holding on to him, like Tony’s the only one, like Tony’s all he’s got in the world.

***

Tony is lying on his back, sending the last of the endless emails, trying to approve everything for the gathering of funds tomorrow. He has almost lost his voice, with surprise squeakings on the phone, one call after the other, after the other. It’s amazing that no one has a clue who convinced the president and funnily enough everyone thinks it’s one of Tony’s magic tricks that has finally worked out. Rhodey has a few people in mind but none of them could have possibly known about any of this, and Pepper has no idea but keeps screaming many nice things about their unidentified superhero. 

Tony tosses his StarkPad on the nightstand and stretches his arms over his head. “So, Steve, I’ve had a question since this afternoon, and I am just gonna come right out with it, if you don’t mind. Do you… happen to… have a crush on our president?”

Steve freezes for a second, staring at the sketchbook he is doodling in, before he turns on his side to face Tony, slowly. “Excuse me?”

Tony smiles. “Look, I am not judging you, it’s perfectly okay to have a crush on…well anybody.” And he turns to his side too, so he can look at Steve’s perfect eyes that are so adorably confused right now. 

“First of all, if you don’t judge me for having a crush on Biff, I will judge you.” Steve says, as he curls his lips and narrows his eyes, “ and besides, WHY on earth would you think that?”

Tony runs his fingers in Steve’s hair. “Biff ha?” And he trails down Steve’s neck and rests his hand on the delicate spot where the muscles on Steve’s back reach each other. “First of all, I have the biggest crush in human history on a guy who’s been dead for 75 years, so I can’t judge anyone. And besides, you were blushing.” 

“I was not blushing,” Steve says as he pouts, half teasing and half disappointed. 

Tony runs his palm up Steve’s chest, massaging the line between his pecs. “Oh yes you were,” he whispers, and watches Steve close his eyes, as Tony’s fingers caress their way up Steve’ neck and brush over his lips. “See. Just like now.” And he has to close his own eyes and take a deep breath too, with the way Steve’s blush darkens and spreads to his navel.

Steve runs his fingers in Tony’s hair, and they tingle the back of Tony’s neck. “He is not my celebrity crush, Tony, I promise.” 

Tony chuckles and winks. “So you _do_ have one? A celebrity crush?” he says lightly, before pulling forward just a little bit to press his face to the warmth of Steve’s chest. 

Steve shuffles closer to Tony. “You tell me first. I was almost jealous of Batman for no reason apparently.” 

Tony nibbles at Steve’s neck, and kisses his Adam’s apple. “Oh Batman is awesome, don’t get me wrong,” he says, suddenly tired with the roller coaster ride that’s been the last day of week one of self-isolation, “but he is nowhere and let me repeat this, nowhere as brave, and kind, and smart, and amazing as my guy.” And he yawns against Steve’s shoulder. 

Steve pulls the covers over them and tucks Tony in. “Well, tell me, already! Dead or alive, who do I need to actually be jealous of?”

Steve kisses the top of Tony’s head and Tony thinks about the astonishment of sleeping in Steve’s arms. Steve, who is caring and gentle with people he hasn’t even met and hates throwing stuff away. Who can turn a line on a piece of paper, into a fully fleshed international treaty proposal in half a day and is not afraid of using big words like admiration and jealousy. Tony loves being around him. He has a way, a different way, Tony thinks, a bit old fashioned and too serious maybe sometimes, but also adorably sharp and awkwardly funny. He is brave and smart and so heartwarmingly kind, and he reminds Tony of someone but he is too tired now, and he can’t quite remember. 

“Fine, Othello, no need to punch anyone dead. Told you he is dead already. It’s the guy who’s strong and brave, here to save the American way.” Tony yawns and curls his feet around Steve’s. “It’s Captain America,” he whispers, before he drifts off into a dreamless, deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, surprise??  
> I am pretty sure you knew this was coming right?! :) 
> 
> A quick reference to a few things:  
> [Biff](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biff_Tannen) is a character from Back to Future trilogy, and it's [how Chris Evans addresses Trump a lot](https://www.themarysue.com/every-time-chris-evans-called-donald-trump-biff/) .  
> [lean-canvas](https://canvanizer.com/new/lean-canvas) is 1-page business plan used in the Lean Business Model. 
> 
> The playlist that Steve plays is [this one](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLRZlMhcYkA2Fhwg-NxJewUIgm01o9fzwB) and I am sorry the first song was not intentionally 'It's been a long, long time' okay? <3
> 
> And in case it's not obvious the idea of Steve calling the president comes from my beloved sabre in [Celestial Navigation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10720710/chapters/23753940).
> 
> This is the [ Tumblr post for the fic ](https://avengersnewb.tumblr.com/post/613881389683703808/so-as-you-know-i-am-writing-a-two-weeks), in case you wanted to reblog it!
> 
> I'm [avengersNewB](https://avengersnewb.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, come talk to me :)


	9. Day 8 - Roleplay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so so much for reading this fic, and sending so much love my way, I don't really know how to thank you.  
> Sorry, this chapter took so long, but hey it's 3.5 k, so maybe consider it one and a half chapter? :)
> 
> A quick light angst warning for the first part of the chapter, in case you don't want to read angst at all these days. I hope you give it a try anyway, because it kinda gets better from there :))
> 
> Please let me know what you think, in any shape way or form, your nice words make me keep going with this one, as it gets harder and harder to tie things together as I am going forward.  
> And those of you who read and don't comment? I love you too, and I hope you enjoy this <3
> 
> We are discussing COVID-19 pandemic, as usual, without mentioning the name, so if you don't want to be exposed to that topic, please take care of yourself and don't read this one.
> 
> As always thank you so much to fiftyshadesofstony and JehBeeEh for beta and all the nice words, guys I could not have come this far without youuuuu!!!!!!

It’s still pitch black outside when Steve opens his eyes. 

He did not have a dream, not exactly, but he can feel the cold stickiness that’s creeping under his skin. He can still breathe and his teeth are not chattering, but there is a weight pressing at his chest and he is numb and sweaty. 

Steve doesn’t want to take a step away from Tony. He wants to keep Tony in his arms and smell his hair, hoping, knowing that it will calm him down, just like every unsettled second of the past week, but he hates disturbing Tony more than he already has, with showing up in that bar, with staying here, and being, well, who he actually is.

Steve takes a deep breath, and slides Tony off his chest, as gently as he possibly can, and despite the lifted weight, it's harder to breathe suddenly. Steve has to get away though. He has to put a distance between them, at least a few feet because he is an inch from waking Tony up and blurting out all the things he can't begin to imagine saying out loud.

***

The city is still asleep. 

Steve shivers as he steps on the balcony, as the wind is too chilly for an April night in Houston. He sits back on the chair, staring at the half-dark towers in the skyline and wonders if anyone out there is stuck in a more bizarre situation than he is right now. Breathing in the humid morning air, trying to calm down and think, he realizes that he has no clue, what so ever. He has no idea how he should disclose a national secret - one that people need a Top Secret clearance to access the encrypted files on a thumb drive about - with a guy he has casually fallen in love with. How is he gonna sit Tony down, and explain that the dead guy of Tony’s dreams happens to be him, Steve Rogers, a broken boy who’s not even from Brooklyn anymore, and the longest he has gone without a screaming nightmare or day-time panic attack is the past 5 days that he has spent in Tony’s arms? That he is not amazing or awesome, and definitely not brave, that he is nothing like Tony thinks, that he is in fact just a pair of long legs in a too-tight star-spangled uniform.

Steve can’t be awake. This - all of this - has to be a long-winded exhausting dream since going down with Valkyrie in 1945. He must still be asleep somewhere unknown, deep in the Arctic, and waking up in the hospital, the lonely nights and pointless days, and the unbearable constant pain have to be the episodes of one endless nightmare. He can’t quite believe that deciding to walk into that bar and falling into Tony’s arms, the little heaven in the hell that’s been Steve’s life in the past 18 months, are not even real; that everything is part of the same nightmare, Steve can't imagine having to go back to.

He wants to stay in this little piece of heaven. As crazy as it sounds, even in his own head, the only thing he knows he wants to do with the rest of his life is cling to Tony. To breathe in his scent, and bask in his ecstatic calm, to feel his constant vibrating and listen to his never-ending chatter, to just try and make sense of the way his brain works. To be amazed for the rest of his life with how a person could be so selfless, so giving and so fucking wonderful.

And what if he forgets to eat when Steve is not around anymore? What if he gives and gives and gives until he collapses with no one to catch him? What if he is sad or cold and the stupid person sleeping next to him has no idea? Not that Steve has a single idea, but he is eager to try. To stick around somehow, to feed, to keep warm, to touch, and kiss and kiss some more until he can’t breathe.

The city is waking up slowly and the lights of dark windows are flickering on. Steve closes his eyes, to keep the tears in, and imagines Tony’s hands in his hair. He imagines hiding his face in Tony’s chest, trailing his lips along the amazing artwork of scars, that Steve is dying to ask why, and talking, maybe crying while no one can see. Tony’s soft words, and his endless string of kisses, the way he holds Steve tight and takes his breath away with a single touch; the way he fits, he’s right, he is the one.

He is the one. 

The idea rolls through Steve’s body and tears run down his face. Tony is the one Steve has been waiting for; awake or asleep, buried under miles of ice in a stretch between two centuries. He _is_ the heavenly breeze in Steve’s blistering hell, for real, and nothing about this ‘hook up’ situation is random. This is just how it’s meant to be, as fucking cliche as it might sound, that Steve had to wait all these years, mostly unconscious and frozen, to get here and find his one.

And it’s all slipping away from him. 

He has finally arrived at the spring but he can’t take the water. It’s pouring out of his clenched fists, no matter how much he squeezes his fingers; you can’t hold water in your hand, and that’s that.

He lays his head back on the chair. The sun is rising slowly and the lights of the small apartments are getting less and less distinctive. Steve thinks about all things that he had let run out of his hands as he watches the city come to life. He thinks about not being able to hold on to Bucky’s hand on that snowy mountain and the dance date with Peggy on the Saturday that never came. He thinks about holding on to Tony’s hand and dancing with him to all the music in the world. To swing and sway until he is dizzy, to follow Tony's lead, to slow dance until he can’t move his feet anymore. He thinks about the feel of Tony's body against his, and sneaking kisses here and there, the smiles and soft whispers, and the spin and swirl that carry on lighting up Steve's insides. The impossibility of it all, the fact that Steve doesn't even know how to dance, all of it being a dream that has never been and will never be. 

He doesn’t remember when he stops to dance, but the sun is shining in the sky when he opens his eyes. There is a woolen throw covering his feet and chest, and something is lingering in the air, a warm presence maybe, a vague feeling of a kiss that someone had placed on Steve's cheek, that doesn't seem to have happened in the dancing dream.

***

The thing about wearing a mask more often than not is that you get used to it. You get used to hiding your face, your expressions, your identity. You become less important each day and the mask, as much as you get used to hiding behind it, does not become more important, even a single little bit. You get used to not having a choice, not being yourself, not being the mask. The thing is, you get used to hiding, altogether.

Right now though, Steve hides behind the wall of new items on his list. He spends over 10 hours on phone calls and video conferences with so many people he loses count. He chats constantly, with his new team - because he now has a team of four interns and one real-life SI-employee assistant - and spends most of his leftover brainpower to figure out their complicated references, which they use in their professional communications even. He hides behind the long messages with Ms. Potts going over the list of congress members and senators who are willing to help lift the ban on distilleries making hand sanitizers and comparing the details of Nestle and Kraft food bank proposals. He hides for a whole day behind being busy, too busy to spend five minutes putting some food together to take to Tony’s room and get the nose kiss he misses so much it almost hurts, instead of obsessing about it with every beat of his heart. 

The only problem with using the shiny new StarkPad your quarantine husband has left in your room overnight as your new mask is that, he can show up after so many hours, leaning against the desk with a lopsided smile, and well, take it off you. Literally. 

***

There are beers on the coffee table in front of the TV, and a giant pizza box that Tony puts on Steve’s lap as soon as he sits down. Bollo is allegedly the best pizza in all of Texas, and Tony would have gotten more if he was not worried about already being on Steve’s bad side today, not willing to make it any worse by overspending. Steve pretends to not feel the slight sting of the words but his hands go cold for a second when he is opening the pizza box. 

Steve holds out a slice of pizza and, instead of taking the thing with his hand, Tony takes a bite. Steve’s mouth goes dry all of a sudden, and the wave of satisfaction that runs him over makes his head spin a little. Something peaceful takes the place of Steve’s day-long restlessness, bit by bit, and breathing gets easier slowly, as Tony eats the next two slices of pizza the same way, taking bites instead of taking them with his hand. 

Tony talks about the battle he’s been fighting to convince his execs to take significant pay-cuts to hold back lay-offs as much as possible. He rants about the pandemic bringing out the worst of the American Nightmare to the surface; how public healthcare and social welfare are non-existent in this country, and charities cannot make up for an unjust, broken system. Steve eats the rest of the amazing oversized pizza as slowly as he possibly can, and nods from time to time, as he swallows his opinions on America’s social issues with cheese and bread. He can talk about public healthcare all day; he just doesn't know if he can stop talking before all that’s been building up inside him since last night starts to spill.

Tony finally stops browsing the channels when he gets to The Daily Social Distancing Show. Steve laughs at Trevor Noah’s remark about the president not being a billionaire due to not knowing how numbers work, because he understands the reference, and a few knots untie in his stomach as Tony puts an arm around his shoulders. Tony kisses the side of Steve’s face as the president shows up on the screen and starts to tease Steve about having a crush on the guy all over again. Steve kisses the side of Tony's face, his lips prickling as they brush over the goatee, and smiles. Tony is trusting Steve with billions of dollars worth of secrets, for whatever reason that’s fully beyond Steve, and Steve can trust Tony with this one thing in return, which is not devastating or classified anyway. 

Tony walks around as they watch the video of the first time Iron Man’s caught on camera, flying over Afghanistan. He paces the room during the Netflix documentary and he yells at the screen right after Steve, as soon as the narrator mixes up Mark VI and Mark VII. Tony explains the Mark VII firepower improvements with a mind-blowing amount of details and sketches the new thrusters at Steve’s request to the best of his knowledge. He smiles the whole time, watching on his feet, as Iron Man rescues the passengers of the Staten Island Ferry, and cheers and claps for the last few passengers, excited to see the ‘ending show’ from this particular angle. 

***

“So, Iron Man then?” Tony is standing behind the couch as they watch Iron Man disappear into the gray cloudy sky, in the very last video that is available from him online. 

Steve turns over his shoulder to look at him before he turns back to catch the last seconds of the video. “For a guy who has a crush on Captain America, you sound extremely judgmental, Mr. Stark.”

Tony laughs, and something flutters in Steve’s heart. “Captain America was literally the peak of human perfection. He freed 400 prisoners that the army had given up on with his bare hands and drew an exact map of all the other HYDRA bases by looking at the original map _once_. He literally sacrificed himself to save the world. I have nothing to be ashamed of for loving the guy with my whole heart.” And the sincere pride in his tone fills Steve’s chest with a million butterflies.

Tony leans forward to kiss Steve’s hair and Steve reaches up to wrap his hands around him. “Iron Man made Mark I in a cave, a fucking cave, held captive at gunpoint. All the brilliance? It’s inside him. It’s his hard work, and never-ending efforts, and his amazing good heart that makes him special. Your guy though-” Steve takes a deep breath “-everything special about your guy, came from a bottle.” And he waits for the creeping shadow of pain, but Tony is hugging his shoulders and the heartache doesn't seem to want to rush back. 

Tony ruffles Steve’s hair gently. “I think you have not read enough about Captain America then, son.” He kisses the back of Steve’s neck. “Did you know that he once jumped on a live grenade to save his team, _before anything special in a bottle?_ That he got beaten up in every alleyway in Brooklyn because he hated bullies?” He runs his fingers on Steve’s scalp, and a shudder runs down Steve’s spine. “Have you seen him when he was skinny and pretty? I have his enlisting photo somewhere in my confidential data storage because I can’t really keep stolen data on my phone, and let me tell you, he has the fieriest eyes I have ever seen in my life.”

Steve’s mind goes blank for a second. He wonders if pretty has other meanings too, as the idea of Tony hiding a photo of _the_ _skinny pretty boy with fiery eyes_ stretches and echoes in his brain, and he wants to say something, everything to be exact, but it’s a blessing, or a curse, that his brain is not creating any speech commands at the moment.

“Iron Man is just a man in a suit of armor. Take the suit away and what is he? I mean, we don’t know what the guy behind that mask looks like. Even _I_ can pretend to be Iron Man.” Tony chuckles, mostly breezy and carefree, and Steve’s too busy with the flood of emotions that he almost misses the dark edge of his tone. He smiles too and the idea of Tony being jealous of Iron Man feels like bubbles and stars inside his belly. 

“So you’re saying I can’t pretend to be Captain America?” Steve says as he turns to face Tony. 

Tony stares at Steve, eyes narrowed and mouth twisted. He then smiles as he raises an eyebrow, his eyes getting darker in a way Steve has learned to read perfectly, and a swirl of heat starts to coil low in Steve's body. "I think I just happen to know a way to test that.”

***

Steve can’t believe they're doing this.

He is mortified. He is overwhelmed and a little confused and he has never felt as right as now, it’s almost crazy. The fact that Tony is half calm and helpful and half flustered and all over the place is heartwarmingly adorable and the way he explains roleplaying and asks if Steve’s okay with it a few too many times, makes Steve’s heart skip many beats, as usual. 

Steve gets to be Captain America in Iron Man’s arms because Tony is not afraid of putting fantasies into words and doesn’t mind pretending to be the man of Steve’s fantasies even more than he already is. He does blush but keeps talking about how Iron Man and Captain America meet for a battle and kisses Steve’s heated cheeks and parted lips as Steve chokes to say his lines about seducing Iron Man after the battle, the few first times. 

Steve finally says the words, and it’s like nothing he has ever experienced before. It's incredibly liberating to hear his controlled calm battle voice, asking, begging Iron Man to _take him,_ even if he is going nuts by the sheer embarrassment of the whole deal. Ton--Iron Man is happy to _take Cap anytime_ , but he doesn’t want to _bare that beautiful ass_ in public, even if the alley is empty and dark, and the images reel in Steve’s mind, and knock the breath out of his lungs. Iron Man pins Captain America to the ground, holding his wrists with one gauntlet, and Steve is trembling already as Iron Man asks if the Captain does not mind him removing the groin plate because _it’s getting a little uncomfortable down there_ before he straddles Steve’s hips, pressing him to the cold rough concrete. 

The gauntlet fingers trail down Steve’s throat and the metallic cool soothes the burning blaze on Steve’s skin. The fingers slip further down, brushing over Captain America’s _round and pointy tits,_ and the words make Captain America blush under his mask as the touch sets his chest on fire. He pants and whimpers as Iron Man rubs his hips against Captain America’s _gorgeous erection_ , his heart racing in his chest and his breath hitched and short while his mind falls into that painless place he has finally come to found, which is easy and quiet. He listens to Iron Man as he keeps on talking breathlessly, how he has daydreamed about this, having Captain America under him, exposed and vulnerable like this, and Steve wonders if Captain America has enjoyed anything more in his life than this, lying on the dusty sidewalk of a dark empty alley, this vulnerable and this exposed. 

Captain America kisses Iron Man’s chest plate and runs his fingers on the arc reactor making Iron Man lose his grip on Cap’s shoulders and tumble over Captain America, shakily, and he starts to moan and whimper too as Captain America holds him tight and arches his hips to press their cocks further together. 

Steve goes off script, his brain blank and his body on fire, and begs to kiss Iron Man’s lips. And it’s amazing how the faceplate disappears, Tony’s eyes smiling at him and Captain America closes his eyes, as soft warm fingers remove the mask gently. 

It feels like licking an exposed wire. 

Steve is Captain America and Captain America is Steve. No masks, no secrets, nothing to hide. It’s just pure electrifying, explosive pleasure with Iron Man’s grounding hold and Tony’s mesmerizing kiss, as they come, shaking and panting together. It’s surreal and completely out of this world, and yet it’s the realest Steve has felt in his century-long life. 

***

“Thank you, Cap, I had a blast. We should do it again sometime, maybe somewhere with more privacy?” Tony seems endearingly happy, as he tangles his feet to Steve’s and Steve doesn’t find it in himself to doubt his words; the ‘having a blast’ part, or ‘doing it again’. 

“I don’t know, Iron Man, I think I kinda liked doing it in a back alley?” Steve envelopes Tony in his arms and breathes in the coconut scent of his shower damp hair.

Tony looks into Steve’s eyes. “Who knew that Captain America would be into exhibitionism?” And he wiggles his eyebrow, his face lighting up into an easy smile. “Not that I am shaming or objecting sweetheart, your kink is my kink and it’s okay.”

Steve smiles back. “I just want people to know that you can hold Captain America down, and touch him, whenever and wherever you want.” 

Tony blushes and hides his face in Steve’s chest. “Jeeze, Captain, you’ll give me a heart attack if you keep talking like this.” and the way his voice shakes slightly, makes Steve’s heart do a silent happy dance.

The thing about wearing a mask more often than not is that you forget to take it off. You forget the explicit fact that you can make a decision; to be yourself, at least for once, after so many decades. That hiding is a choice, as much as being exposed and vulnerable; as much as trust. That a mask, even the reinforced, superhero special-made ones, are meant to come off someday.

He might not need to hold water in his hands after all. All he might need to do is take the mask off, show himself, the skinny broken boy from Brooklyn, and hope for the best. It feels right to do it. It feels right to at least try.

Steve pulls the covers over them and tucks Tony in. “I don’t want anything to happen to your heart.” He brushes his lips over Tony’s hair, pressing him in, as he closes his eyes. “I love you,” he whispers, before falling into a dreamless, deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry if I made you cry guys, and I hope I made up for it after? hugs and kisses for everyone and Steve, you're okay baby, we love you so much :))
> 
> ALSO, there is a dance scene coming up soon, yayyyy, and I would love to hear your song suggestions for this version of our boys to ummm have their first dance? 
> 
> This is the [ Tumblr post for the fic ](https://avengersnewb.tumblr.com/post/616687630327988224/so-as-you-know-i-am-writing-a-two-weeks), in case you wanted to reblog it!
> 
> I'm [avengersNewB](https://avengersnewb.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, come talk to me :)


	10. Day 9 - Strip Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we are back with another QT chapter folks <3  
> This took really long to come but it's double the usual word count, so I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> The boys discuss some kinks, just talking, but please read the updated tags!
> 
> I finally know how this is going to end and I am so so so excited for the rest of the journey, now that we are officially 2/3rd through!  
> Thank you all for coming along and I hope you enjoy the rest <3 
> 
> We are discussing COVID-19 pandemic, as usual, without mentioning the name, so if you don't want to be exposed to that topic, please take care of yourself and don't read this one.
> 
> As always thank you so much to fiftyshadesofstony and JehBeeEh for beta and all the nice comments, I love you guys, I am so grateful!

Tony wakes earlier for a change. 

Steve’s still asleep, soft and warm, slumped against Tony’s side, and he looks like a Golden Retriever puppy with the ray of sun shining on the fine blond hair all over his back. 

He _is_ such a big bulky puppy, Tony thinks as he runs his fingers through Steve’s hair; he is genuine and raw and surprisingly strong inside and out but gets flustered in a heartbeat over working out the coffee machine and shows his blushing belly, in the most endearing way possible, as soon as Tony brushes his lips under his chin. 

Maybe they can get a puppy together? Steve’s definitely a dog person, and no one can stop Tony from bringing a pet into his own tower. Steve wouldn’t go with buying one though, Tony can hear the argument about breeding crimes like it’s happening before him, so maybe a big dog from a shelter? They can do whatever Steve wants to do. They can buy a dog hotel and adopt the whole shelter. 

Tony smiles with the warmth that the idea of doing things with Steve brings him. It’s a sweet dream to have, that they will still do things together after they are out of here, and Tony doesn’t have to be rational about it right at this moment. He can pretend to be dreaming maybe, it’s still early and he is still sleepy enough so he can close his eyes and dream about a life with Steve outside of the walls of Four Season’s most expensive suite, which they are donating the money for - dollar for dollar matched by Four Seasons - thanks to Steve. 

Steve is smart. He is quick and resourceful, and is apparently a phenomenal boss because more than twenty interns have applied to fill the two new intern roles on his team that Pepper had advertised internally yesterday afternoon. Steve’s team, that did not exist three days ago and doesn’t have a name, but has finalized 21 emergency help projects already worth around a billion dollars and he is just getting fucking started. 

This guy, sleeping next to Tony, smiling in his sleep for some reason, whose morning breath smells like a honeycomb, and is in love with Iron Man, just to add to the already impossibly long list of his magnificence.

The minor detail of it being Iron Man and not Tony, doesn’t really matter, does it? The fact that Tony IS Iron Man means something, right? It has to, Tony tells himself wistfully. It has to mean something, that Steve fantasizes about Tony in a suit of armor even if he doesn’t know it’s Tony inside there. 

Tony is gonna survive this. Worse things have happened to him and loving someone who doesn't love you back is not that horrible, is it?

It probably is, Tony tells himself, as it’s time to stop dreaming and wake up, anytime now. Especially if the guy he loves happens to be Steve Rogers; pure concentrated perfection.

***

Steve is different today.

He seems to have shed a skin, or grown another one, as he can’t seem to stop smiling all the way through breakfast and finds the time, all of a sudden, to come to Tony’s room many times during the day, with or without food, and waits 5 whole minutes one time, for Tony to finish his video call so he can get his nose kiss before he goes back to his room. 

Tony is also happy. Fine. Peachy. He is just _a little_ distracted with a soft sleepy voice echoing in his brain and saying words that are not meant for him and it hurts only a little bit to be jealous of yourself because at least it’s not someone else. It’s okay, it’s cool. It’s just complicated.

He ditches the daily board briefing and dares to tell Pepper that he is too busy for their one on one. He grabs his good reading glasses instead and digs through all the information Bruce has sent him after their quick chat in the middle of the Stimulus Package mayhem two days ago. 

It feels like a foreign language at first, as Tony has never had to deal with anything to do with microbiology, but the thrill of learning something new wins him over after the first few articles, and he loses track of time reading about virus strains, genomes and the million different methods of isolation and characterization, and the relationship between the original virus genetic and vaccine development. He writes some modeling codes and calls Bruce after JARVIS’s fifth failed attempt at rendering it, for an hour-long chat that leaves him with a fried brain leaking out of his ears. He has to read through a full course of vaccinology references tomorrow if he actually wants to make some sense of what Bruce is portraying as their only chance of developing a vaccine. 

***

“You’re serious?”

Steve is blushing all over. He is smiling and casual, on the outside at least, but Tony can see the red that’s already spread down the neck of his t-shirt and the narrow strip of skin between the hem and the waistband as he flops on the couch next to Tony.

“You suggested we play a game, sweetheart.” Tony winks at Steve, as he brushes a finger over Steve’s bottom lip, and he can’t tell which is more of a turn-on; the way Steve closes his eyes from the touch, or that his tongue touches the tip of Tony’s finger. “I just need a brain break, Steve, help a friend out here,” he rasps, not as playful as he planned to.

“A game, like Quacks of Quedlinburg or Camelot maybe? Friends do not play strip games, _friend._ ” Steve winks too, and Tony’s heart flutters in his chest. He would love to play a round of quirks of quenching with Steve, or a thousand rounds, it is obviously a super cool game if Steve suggests it, but Camelot? Now _that_ must be some weird-ass karma for something Tony has done in the past because other than Tony who still has his full set of “Inside Moves” that was Jarvis’ present for his 11th birthday, no one knows the game was called Camelot ages ago. 

“I am sure you have heard of friends with benefits?” Tony asks with narrowed eyes.

Steve narrows his eyes too. “So is that what we are, now? ” and he reaches forward to caress Tony’s cheek.

The hair on the back of Tony’s neck stands on end. What are they exactly? Quarantined fuckbuddies? Hopeless romantics? Some kind of lovers, when one is in love with the other’s alter ego and the other-- 

“We’re whatever you want us to be, Steve,” And he forces a smile because hopefully, this can mean many things in many contexts.

Steve’s face goes serious and he stops smiling, a blink and you’ll miss it kind of situation, and he is smiling again in the next fraction of a second, brighter than before. “Strip friends indeed, then.” 

***

Tony takes truth. 

Steve squints at the TV screen as he reads the question. “Which movie star would you really want to have sex with?”

Tony scratches his beard as he squints at the screen as well. “Does it have it to be someone new, or could it be someone I’ve already banged?”

Steve’s eyes pop out for a second before he shakes his head with a bit of fake judgment. “Let’s go with the new for now?”

Tony chuckles. “Hmmm, Jude Law? Tom Hiddleston. No, no, wait. I got it. Chris Evans.”

Steve smirks and shakes his head as he taps on his phone to spin the stripping wheel. “You certainly have a type.” 

Tony takes off an item of clothing at _his lover’s request_ ; the t-shirt obviously because it’s the first thing one removes when they undress, or at least that's what Tony thinks before Steve’s fingers trace the scars on his chest so gently and make Tony stop breathing altogether.

“Your turn, celebrity banger,” Steve says, but he keeps his palm on Tony’s chest a moment longer, staring into his eyes, and something warm spills from his hand onto Tony’s heart and spreads all the way down to his toes. 

Tony takes a deep breath to steady himself as Steve pulls away and blinks a few times till he is finally able to focus on his phone. “Truth or dare?” 

“Dare?” Steve smiles casually, but he is rubbing his hands on the sides of his thighs, and there is nothing casual about that spelled in the universal language of nervousness.

Tony’s cheeks start to heat up as he reads the dare challenge on TV, and his mouth goes a little dry, as Steve stops fidgeting and stands up. “Up,” he orders, and Tony stands up without missing a beat, confused for a second because Steve sounds like he did last night, as he was playing Captain America. The idea of Steve mixes with Captain America again, in the most delicious way, as he sweeps Tony off and presses him to the wall adjacent to the couch. Tony’s feet wrap around Steve’s waist instinctively and his head spins a little as Steve kisses him, so passionately his lips hurt. 

No one is counting so they can’t tell if it’s been five minutes or not, and Steve doesn’t seem to mind Tony’s weight the slightest bit, so they stay like that for many many minutes, with Steve’s hands digging into Tony’s sides, his body holding Tony against the wall, weightless and breezy; the way things need to be all the time.

Tony spins the stripping wheel, still breathless and lightheaded, and he happens to have to take an item of Steve’s clothing off, slowly. He makes Steve sit down, and takes his time to take his shoes off because _he has to,_ and Steve’s socks too, just for kicks. Steve objects, just as Tony expected, because _what about the rules_ , but stops talking as he covers his face, as soon as Tony’s lips touch his toes. 

Tony is not into toes per se, but this is Steve, and it’s not even funny that even his toes are amazing. Tony kisses them one by one, many times, with the wondrous joy of an explorer finding new territory and it looks like Steve’s into this land exploring stuff too, with the way he whimpers with every soft brush of Tony’s lips and all the muffled noises that shudder through Tony’s core right into his cock.

“What was the best sex you ever had?” Steve reads Tony’s truth question, sounding a little shaky still, and Tony hesitates for a second. Not that he doesn’t know the answer, because he does, and it’s more clear than Steve’s anxious anticipation with the way he is chewing on his bottom lip and rubbing the back of his neck. It’s the realization of the answer that is taking Tony by surprise, the clarity itself, how there is no beat, no doubt, no internal debates. How it’s completely obvious.

Tony’s had so many partners, he honestly can’t count. He is the celebrity banger as Steve just said, the playboy of the 90s, with so much evidence in print that there is no point to even try to delete the traces of it. He has slept with someone, who usually charges no less than a down payment for a Park Avenue apartment for the whole night, for free, thank you very much, and she was good, awesome maybe, but nothing, absolutely nothing compared to Tony’s best. And there is no rhyme or reason to it, Tony thinks, cause first-timers are supposed to be odd and clumsy, right? God, Tony does not even want to think about himself when he was a first-timer, just no, but this first-timer? It must be some sort of magic.

Tony hates magic in general. Things science can’t explain, all the supernatural concepts that feed upon people’s fear of the unknown but what he has had with this blushing nervous beefcake these past few days has no scientific explanation as much as Tony has tried to come up with one, and he has to resort to magic here. Dark, black, Voldemort stuff though, because why on earth has it happened if it’s not going to be for real? Why would Tony be so fucking gone for Steve if Steve doesn’t feel the same? If this is all a magical Disney princess movie, they are supposed to fall for each other, right? 

Apparently not. Damn you, Iron Man.

“You,” he finally says and the relief in Steve’s features is more precious than any belonging Tony has ever had, even if it’s there for less than a heartbeat, and is replaced with fabricated disbelief and cheeky smiles. 

“Yeah, yeah, I believe you.” And he turns to the screen to watch the stripping wheel spin but he is grinning wide and his voice is ringing with something that settles in Tony’s body like an unexpected rain on a New York summer afternoon. 

Steve laughs as Tony tries to take Steve’s shirt off with his teeth and mouth as the pink and black wheel suggests and he squirms and whimpers as Tony _accidentally_ brushes his lips over Steve’s chest and bites his left nipple. They kiss with Steve’s t-shirt stuck above his head and Tony can’t help but press their naked skin together when Steve’s finally shirtless too.

“Truth,” Steve says determinedly and leans forward, elbows on his knees. Tony looks at him for a second, the way he is still blushing on every inch of exposed skin, even his toes, and how Tony can see the line he has just teased on Steve’s chest because there is a darker shade going from his neck to his waistline right where Tony’s tongue's been a minute ago. He is worried about the next question, and Tony wants to hug him from behind and kiss the tension off the back of his shoulders.

It’s a lightning round of ‘Would You Rather’ questions. Tony reads the first question that is blinking on his phone and looks back at Steve who has his ‘I can do this’ look on again but is fiddling with his fingers still, so Tony reaches over and holds Steve’s hands in his. 

“Pay for sex or be paid for sex?” 

Steve scratches his chin absentmindedly. “Be paid I guess? If it’s either pay or to be paid, maybe I could get the money and give it to the person who I was supposed to pay for sex?” and he rubs the back of his neck again and smiles, melting Tony’s heart in his chest, with his adorable argument. 

Steve is the most boy scout kind of guy Tony has ever met. Not that he usually comes across a lot of those people, because his circles are fucked, but Steve has this raw, genuine, greater good aspect to him that he doesn’t even try to hide. It’s like a breath of fresh air, the way he believes in making a change, the way he operates almost all the time, and it’s beyond astonishing how his ways actually work, as naive and unworldly as they look, how he has done more in the past three days, than the president's administration in the past three months. 

Tony leans forward and kisses Steve’s cheek before reading the next question. “Sexy maid or sexy doctor?” 

Steve smiles at Tony and shakes his head fondly. “Are you sure these questions are random? Cause I see some patterns there, Mr. Stark.” And he kisses Tony’s cheek back. “The one that wears an apron I guess?” and he laughs, folding his arms over his chest, throwing his head back and Tony is kinda sick of his own sappiness but he feels he is about to burst into a million happy bubbles.

“Slap or spank?”

Steve’s face stiffens for a second, and Tony gives himself a mental kick. “Ah, I don’t know? I mean I get beaten up quite frequently and there is nothing sexy about broken shoulders and black eyes.” 

Well, fuck, Tony thinks, as he wraps his arms around Steve and he holds on for a moment, for Steve’s shoulders to soften a little. 

Steve bends awkwardly so he can rest his head on Tony’s chest. “It’s okay, I heal really quickly.” But he doesn’t sound okay, really. “It’s just that because of that, I end up in situations that I get hurt a lot. And although I mostly recover without a scratch, it still fucking hurts,” he sighs, and Tony pulls him in too slowly as if Steve’s physically hurt right now. “And I can’t take pain killers, nothing really works, and for a short period after every mission, it’s just hell.” 

Tony takes a deep breath. Why on earth can’t he take pain killers? The idea of having a mystery job that requires being beaten up all the time and not being able to take pain killers doesn’t sit well together, and Tony does not like the picture one bit. He sighs again and kisses Steve’s hair. “I am sorry, sweetheart, I am so sorry. It must be awful to be the toughest guy in the room when no one can seem to understand how hard it is to hold it together.” Tony runs his fingers on Steve’s back, drawing soothing circles, as he plans a chat with Bruce and emailing Dr. Cho in hopes of finding something that might help Steve, at least a little bit.

“Spanking - or slapping for that matter - doesn’t have to be about pain,” Tony says as they finally break away and sit back, still facing each other. “I mean it can be, a lot of people get off on pain, but it’s not just that.” 

Steve nods, the way he does when he is all listening and thinking hard, and Tony’s heart does its usual flip flop, which he can’t really tell the reason for at this stage. Talking to Steve, or eating with him, touching his hand or his ass, is a sure deal to have the same effect to some extent; to make Tony’s heart swoon and a warm electricity-like wave to shudder through his gut. 

“It’s about surrendering at your own will. To give up the power and trust someone else; to leave it in their hands.” Tony reaches for Steve’s hand to hold it in his, and Steve brings his other hand forward to hold onto Tony’s. The air gets too thin for a moment, and Tony can’t quite tell, if it’s the idea of Steve's perfect ass on his lap, with Tony’s red hand marks all over, that has suddenly taken Tony’s breath away, or the way he is clutching to Tony’s hand right now as if Tony’s somehow the steadying polar of the entire universe. 

“It’s about being at someone else’s mercy fully, yet being sure that it will be okay. It’s learning the art of letting go and enjoying it too. Being weak but decidedly, not being in charge, not having to make decisions, just being there and taking it. It may not work for you but I kinda have a feeling that it might, so… just an idea.” And he shivers slightly, as Steve leans in to lay his head on Tony’s chest, again. 

“Okay,” Steve says as he lifts his head to look into Tony’s eyes. “Spank it is then.” And he smiles, a little pained still, but there is a sparkle in his eyes that was not there a minute ago and the way Tony’s heart pounds in his chest, is just yesterday news.

Tony huffs at the next question. “Gosh, maybe we should skip this one?” 

Steve shakes his head and narrows his eyes. “No! No, no, no skipping, no. I can do this, it’s fine,” and well, Tony can’t say no to Steve’s pouting determination anyway.

“Handcuff or blindfold?” Tony asks and the image of Steve handcuffed to Tony’s bed - his actual bedroom in the penthouse of Stark Tower - makes his hands go numb. It will be glamorous, if Steve ever gives Tony the honor, the third most beautiful thing in the world probably, right after his smile and his adorable, perfect blush.

“Both.” Steve shrugs. “With you--I can do both.” 

Tony smiles and takes a deep breath, trying to focus on _both_ and _with you,_ but sharp needles are pricking his heart suddenly. “I’d say you get to do both then,” and he ruffles Steve’s hair, brushing his forearm to the side of his face and Steve turns and pecks a quick kiss on Tony’s hand before turning back to watch the stripping wheel spin on the TV.

Tony smiles and frowns at the same time, with the card that comes up and he looks at Steve, wondering if they should stop playing altogether. Steve’s already walking around the coffee table though, and it’s amazing how he looks all happy and bright again, how he is moving effortless and easy, and how focused he is as if nothing matters more than him having to _striptease two items of his clothing_.

 _For me_ , Tony tells himself, _he is putting this face on for me_ , and it’s breaking his heart and mending it at the same time, the way Steve’s all in all the time, and he may not love Tony, not exactly, but he can make those stupidly hilarious moves while taking off his pants and make Tony laugh so hard, so he forgets about the thinning of his resources to help people in this crisis, the deaths, the everlasting series of not being enough, at least for a few minutes. 

Tony takes dare this time. 

“This doesn’t make sense. A dare for me or for you?”

“Figure out what your lover is spelling on a body part of yours with their tongue.” Steve reads in a singsong tone and places a hand on Tony’s stomach.

“I dare you to tolerate my tongue-writing while figuring out the message. Now, lay back, lover.” He pushes lightly, and Tony goes with ease, still confused about the daring aspect of the deal, as if either of those could be the slightest hardship.

“I am gonna take these off too, if you don’t mind,” Steve explains as he unbuttons Tony’s jeans, “I know it’s not part of the dare but they’re gonna come off with the wheel spinning anyway right? And besides, these questions have to be rigged somehow because, why do you have so much more clothes on while I am completely-” and he removes Tony’s shoes and socks too quickly to be humanly possible “-naked?” 

Steve takes off Tony’s pants and boxer briefs too, and takes a minute to watch him. He is thinking about the message, obviously, but his eyes are roaming from Tony’s face all the way down to his cock, and hopefully, it’s appropriate to be fully hard right now, so there is an odd chance of Steve checking him out, or so one might hope. 

Steve kneels between Tony’s legs, bends and kisses Tony’s lips. His mouth slides down Tony’s throat leaving a wet and warm line over his neck, on his Adam's apple and rests on his chest, right where the arc reactor scars are and Tony’s thoughts, almost all of them, drain out of his brain. It’s an ‘I’, he works out with too much effort, as Steve’s mouth moves in a half-circle from the center of Tony’s chest, licking his left nipple, making him hiss and moan, and curves down to reach his navel before moving back up mirroring the same curve on the other side, and the half-circle, over his right nipple back to the center of the scars. 

Tony is overwhelmed. He feels like he has been dipped in the crack of an ice rink but something distinct is burning on his front that is making the ice melt, in warm gooey circles. Steve just drew a heart all over him and Tony doesn’t know which he could tolerate more decently; if the rest of the message goes the only logical way it can, or if it doesn’t. 

Steve kisses the tip of Tony’s cock. He then licks the length on one side, and slides down Tony’s balls, making Tony float in a sudden nothingness, before he goes around the balls and back up, licking the other side of Tony’s length till he gets back to the tip.

Yes.

No.

Wait. Just wait a minute.

Tony can’t think. He is floating or flying; he might be drowning and he can’t be sure if he remembers his alphabet correctly. 

It’s a U. It’s malformed and too long all the way around Tony’s cock and balls, but definitely a U and Tony can’t stop the out-of-no-where tears or he just does not want to.

Steve then swallows him down in one smooth move, and Tony’s hands shoot forward to run through Steve’s hair, too rough perhaps, but it’s not like Tony has any command. 

Steve Rogers, just licked “I love you” on him, and he is allowed to be out of order for a bit; or for a lifetime. 

Tony cries, sobs, as Steve’s mouth moves up and down his cock, soft and tight, and Tony is not sure if he orders or begs but Steve doesn’t hesitate to touch himself, as soon as the words are spoken. They come together, at the exact same second, and it’s not bizarre even the slightest bit. It’s just magic; unearthly, not explainable, pure, like every other thing that happened in the past 10 days, that led them here, right to this moment.

Steve holds Tony in his arms as they lie on the couch and covers them with the warm knitted throw. Tony kisses Steve’s lips, his face, his hair, his wonderful mesmerizing eyes, and doesn’t know how many times he whispers 'I love you too' in Steve's ears before he falls into a deep dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that happened :))
> 
> I mean this whole fic is one giant sappiness altogether but I think I have outdone myself in being so sappy and head over heels for my boys, because God I love them so much I can write 4.6k of Steve appreciation and go in circles only slightly :))))
> 
> Please let me know what you think, all comments are highly appreciated.
> 
> I got the general idea of this game from "Full Disclosure Strip, Truth or Dare Game for Lovers" and adapted it to some sort of digital version. I have not played that game though so no idea how that one goes exactly! 
> 
> [Quacks of Quedlinburg ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Quacks_of_Quedlinburg%20rel=) is a board game that is apparently very fun and is rather new which Tony doesn't know of, hence he calls it quirks of quenching, quenching being an engineering term! [Camelot ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Camelot_\(board_game\)%20rel=)is an old board game very popular in the 30s when Steve was a kid and it was discontinued from print in the 60s. It was reprinted as Inside Moves in the 1980s so Tony got one for his birthday from Jarvis, and he loves it so much so he knows it was called Camelot before. Too complicated. sorry :))) 
> 
> This is the [ Tumblr post for the fic ](https://avengersnewb.tumblr.com/post/616687630327988224/so-as-you-know-i-am-writing-a-two-weeks), in case you wanted to reblog it!
> 
> I'm [avengersNewB](https://avengersnewb.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, come talk to me :)


	11. Day 10 - Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a month right? Sorry for the long wait <33  
> I'm back with another long chapter and I hope you enjoy it :)
> 
> We are almost there people, almost!! A little bit more to go only, and I am so excited!!! Let's do this!!!!
> 
> We are discussing COVID-19 pandemic, as usual, without mentioning the name, so if you don't want to be exposed to that topic, please take care of yourself and don't read this one.
> 
> Thank you from the bottom of my heart to Jeh and fiftyshades, guys, this is your work as much as mine, I could not have done it without you guys <3333

Tony smiles as Steve puts the blueberry pancakes on his plate.

“So now that we love each other,” Tony says nonchalantly, “I think I should ask you on a proper date.”

Steve chews his mouthful of bacon, as slowly as he can, hoping not to choke and cough instead of a reply, and looks up gradually, as if the air would become less thin if he takes his time to think about what Tony had just said.

 _‘Now that we love each other’_ seems to be the turning point; a perfect queue for what needs to come next. It’s Steve’s alarm clock going off and he needs to wake up from this fairy tale any minute now. It’s not like he doesn’t want to wake up and face the reality, he does, he absolutely does. It’s just that he can’t work out the logistics. He can’t strategize. He just doesn’t know how to. 

“A proper date ha? Like burgers and movies?” He asks, and his heart fills with something extremely gooey as he imagines walking out of Tom’s Restaurant holding Tony’s hand, and throwing popcorn at him to get his attention when he seems to be enjoying the movie too much. 

“I believe in first impressions and extravagant gestures, Mr. Rogers, if I’m being honest. I would take you to the Louvre or Opéra Royal, but considering the quarantine situation, I was thinking, a stay-at-home dinner and dance date?” 

Dance. 

Tony wants to dance.

It’s not even odd, that Steve was having a painfully out of reach dream about dancing with Tony, a couple of days ago. It’s magical but not surprising that Tony does exactly as Steve needs, even when he has no idea about it. The same way he knows how to touch Steve, exactly the right way, to make him rise and fall at the same time. How he knows what to say to make Steve’s mind stop reeling and start moving forward, how he knows what to do exactly to steady Steve and help him go, like taking off the mask Steve had been wearing for so long without even knowing it existed. 

It’s the new normal. It’s how Tony is. 

He is right.

He is the one.

Steve smiles, in an effort to stop the tears welling up. “Okay. Not too extravagant, though. Say, fifty dollars tops?” 

“For God’s sake Steve, I just donated one mil-- a lot of money, let’s say, to promote ‘The Emergency System for the Advance Registration of Volunteer Health Professionals’ which is all sorts of stupid, don’t even get me started because the federal government should have started promoting it days ago, but let’s just not go there. And I know it’s not enough, all my money is not enough to do something right for millions of disadvantaged people, but how on earth am I supposed to impress you with fifty bucks?”

“I’m already impressed.” Steve puts his fork down and tilts his head, watching Tony’s forehead unwrinkle, and his laugh lines deepen. He then stands up and walks around the table, to wrap his hands around Tony’s shoulders and breathe in the coconut scent of his hair. “I’m very very impressed.” 

They stay like that for a while, as Steve massages Tony’s scalp gently with his chin and wonders if he can just tell Tony everything, right at this moment, as Tony is running his fingers on Steve’s forearm. It feels like the perfect moment, as Tony is calm and full, he has not gone through any shouting matches yet and Steve has his arms around him, so he can’t punch Steve or walk away without a word. ‘Tony, I am Captain fucking America’ does not sound like a very good intro to the conversation though, so he moves on to the only other thing that comes to his mind instead.

“I just don’t know how to dance.” 

***

Steve does his best to focus on other things. 

The morning meeting with his SI team is almost a breeze. The fact that he has an actual Stark Industries team, ‘Pandemic Emergency Response’, or purr as Tony likes to call it, has not lost its novelty yet, and he’s still surprised from time to time at how competent his interns are, despite their unconventional hairstyles and semi-questionable fashion choices. The meeting with Nat and Clint is even more engaging, as they debrief Steve on their recent intelligence operation on potential sources of the original virus. Steve does his best not to be salty about being left out and reads through pages of Dr. Cho’s report on a research by a Dr. Banner, who seems to be getting somewhere with making a vaccine if they manage to find the original version of the virus. 

The other meetings do not go as smoothly. Steve finds himself going over his speech all through the financial report presentation of ‘Doctors without Borders’ and stumbles on his words at least three times when explaining the details of SI’s ‘Prisons and Correction Centers’ Emergency Help’ plan to the director of BOP’s Health Services Division. 

He tries to speak to Tony the second time he drops by his room with a cup of freshly made coffee, but all the rehearsed words run away from him, the moment Tony holds Steve by his waist and rubs his cheek on Steve’s stomach, his goatee tickling Steve’s skin through the fabric of his t-shirt. He tugs Steve down to kiss his nose, and Steve doesn’t even remember what he was going to say when Tony finally lets go of Steve’s fingers a minute or two after he picks up his next video call.

***

Steve pushes the SI evening meeting up to 5 PM and ignores Nat’s fortieth call for the day, hoping there is nothing to add to what they had discussed in so much detail over the previous thirty-nine. 

He punches the imaginary sandbag to clear his mind and sweat a little, but he pretends the chain is broken already after ten minutes or so. He takes a shower for the second time and debates whether or not he should do the third pass when shaving his face. He combs his hair to the left, then to the right, then to the left again, and runs his fingers through it in the end, still hating the way he looks. He buttons his shirt and tucks it into the waist of his slacks, while he chants quietly that there will be a next date. A private show at Opéra Royal maybe, when the times are not too tough for self-indulgence, so he can wear his new army uniform, finally sorted out and delivered a couple of months ago. It’s ironic, he thinks as he takes one final look at his reflection, that he despised the damn thing so much when he hung it at the back of his closet, how even touching it felt so painful, reminding him of every single thing he left behind in the past. Now, all he can think about is having another dance date with Tony, wearing the uniform, and watching Tony’s face as his gaze runs up and down Steve’s body, to feel the heat in his cheeks and the flutter in his heart, to have his insides go warm with desire. 

He sits on the edge of the chair by the dressing table and holds his head in his palms. He has 6 minutes exactly to come up with a plan on how to lay things out without freaking Tony out. He can alternatively keep his head in his hands and pray hard for a miracle to spare him from having to say the dreadful words out loud, at least for tonight.

***

“This did not cost more than fifty dollars, I promise.”

Steve laughs and reaches over the table, to hold Tony’s hand. “I believe you, Tony. I just had no idea, the food price is so low in Houston. Last time I ate at Gallaghers’, I’m pretty sure the steak alone was a little more than that.” 

He lets go of Tony’s hand reluctantly because unfortunately Tony needs both of his hands to open the bottle of wine, and takes a sip of his glass right after Tony pours the drink, which tastes more like a $200 bottle rather than a $2 one. 

“Okay. Let’s come clean shall we?” Tony huffs with a lopsided smile, “Vic and Anthony were very surprised when they received the order to prepare 2000 meals for the Houston Food Bank. Their food’s a bit expensive for charity, usually, but they’re closed right now and it’s not like they have anything better to do, so they agreed to throw in a discount. The meal is made especially for us, as a thank you from the 15 staff who will be cooking the meals for as long as the restaurant is closed to the public.” And his lips twitch a little to do that heartwarming cheeky smile that he does when he is happy with himself.

Being cheeky is a good look on Tony and Steve makes a mental note; Tony can turn anything into a charity opportunity.

***

Tony lets go of Steve’s hand and walks to the sound system on the shelf under the TV to turn it on. The lights are dimmed, flickering if you pay enough attention, as Tony had set them to the candlelight mode. You don’t need candles to have a candlelit room these days, and Steve can’t complain; the smell of blown-out candles reminds him of late nights, shivering from cold in the army tents, waiting for the enemy bombers to fly past. 

“Dance with me?” Tony says as he turns to face Steve and everything feels surreal suddenly. Steve steps toward Tony, the floor not solid under his feet, and it feels like a dream, _the dream,_ as if he’s walking on a cloud or something.

Tony kisses the side of Steve’s face gently as he pulls him in and holds him close. He caresses Steve’s back and Steve’s nerves settle slowly, small circles of hope trembling under his skin with each smooth slide of Tony's fingers.

“You trust me?” Tony whispers softly, almost inaudible, and pulls back to look into Steve’s eyes. He holds his hand out slowly, and Steve can see the vein in Tony’s neck pulse, even with the little light in the dim room. Tony is actually wondering, Steve fathoms with disbelief, as if the answer is not completely clear. 

“I do,” Steve says, a bit shakier than he thought he would sound, as he reaches for Tony’s fingers and wraps his hand around them. ‘ _But you shouldn’t trust me’_ burns in his throat and makes his toes go cold, but he manages to bite his bottom lip as Tony leans forward to place the lightest of the kisses on his lips.

“Imagine a box on the floor,” Tony says as he places a hand on Steve’s back, “and its four corners,” and he twines the fingers of the other hand into Steve’s, bringing their joint hands up to chest level. “Think you're holding a frame, by its sides. Keep your back straight, there you go.” He smiles wide as Steve does as Tony says and Steve’s heart flutters and flips.

“I step forward, you step back, one, two, three, four. Just keep going with me, don’t let a gap come between us.” Steve listens to Tony count, his body moving the way Tony directs, as Tony leans in a little with every step and he holds on to Tony’s shoulder, his fingers pressing a little too hard, maybe. 

“Now you come forward, one, two, and back, one, two, wow amazing, Steve, look at you.” Tony sounds genuinely proud and the admiration in his tone spills like a warm wave into Steve’s chest.

“Wait until I step on all your toes,” Steve tries casually, as he follows Tony’s gentle tug, and Tony laughs with his whole face, the candlelight sparkling in his eyes. 

“So let’s try with music. Just as we did now, with the beats of the song.” 

And they do, one, two, three, four, across the living area, as the music takes Steve’s breath away and the words stand out one by one as if they are telling the story of Steve’s life happening right in this moment.

_Hold me close and hold me fast  
The magic spell you cast  
This is "La vie en rose"  
When you kiss me, heaven sighs  
And though I close my eyes  
I see “La vie en rose”_

“Excellent, sweetheart, you’re doing so good. Now let’s step sideways,” Tony whispers, his voice getting muffled by the song. It’s just wondrous, Steve thinks, as he does his best to follow Tony and keep his eyes on him. How Steve’s life had been happening within a rosy hue these past several days, despite all the horrible things that are happening all around, how all it takes for every single word to turn into a love song is for Tony to press Steve to his heart; to hold him close and hold him fast. 

“Now one foot behind the other one, to the side, twist a little, and one foot in front, perfect. Now spin.” And the rosy world spins with a flick of Tony’s hand as he lets go of Steve’s back. Steve’s heart beats fast suddenly as Tony pushes him away, and it slows back down as Tony pulls him back in, so close that their bodies meet and he can kiss Steve’s nose before breaking away.

Steve holds onto Tony’s shoulder and watches the wave in his hair with every slow move, his mind spiraling in countless spins, away from Tony and back to him, over and over and over again.

_Give your heart and soul to me  
And life will always be  
La vie en rose_

Steve knows that for a fact. He wants, more than anything he has ever wanted, to give his heart and soul and whatever else is left of him to Tony. He wants to be Tony’s in every possible way and it’s not even the slightest bit crazy, because Steve knows, with every fiber of his being, that being held in Tony’s arms is the closest his life will ever get to ‘la vie en rose’. 

“So you didn’t know how to dance ha? You were perfect Steve, you didn’t even miss a step.”

Steve can tell the music's over because Tony is not counting any steps. He is pressed to Tony’s chest, distracted by the warm breath hovering over his neck and a little lightheaded, with the power of a dream coming true. Dreams, old and new, of happiness and safety, and feeling warm after shivering for so long, coming home finally and being on time, not stuck in the deep dark ocean, not late. Not a rain check; not today. “Just needed the right partner.”

***

Tony shows Steve how to touch step and triple step with ‘It’s Been a Long Long Time’, while kissing him once and twice then once again, and explains how you can west coast swing to any pop music, like ‘Underwater’ mixing and matching the steps Steve had just learned. Steve’s brain stumbles over the words of the song, hooked on how the love Tony breathes is all Steve needs to become invincible, as silly as it might sound, how he can even breathe underwater if he can keep Tony’s lips on his for as long as possible. They slow down with ‘The Way I Am’, Tony letting go of Steve’s body a couple of times to pull him back right after. He sings some of the words, ‘cause I love the way you say good morning’, and ‘I love you more than I could ever promise’, and it shouldn’t be possible to be nearly flawless, but Tony apparently is, because even his singing voice is absolutely perfect.

***

There are no directions this time. No counting to left and right, no specific steps. Just holding on and staying close, as Tony says quietly before the music starts, body to body, heart to heart and swaying slowly to the music, as Steve buries his face in Tony’s neck breathing in the scent of his skin. 

“I’ve known you for 11 days exactly. It’s a small number if you count it like that.” Tony says softly.

_And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear  
Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?_

“I love you,” he continues, “I don’t care about the numbers, not this time. I just want you.”

_Can I go where you go?  
Can we always be this close forever and ever?  
And ah, take me out, and take me home_

“Come home with me, Steve. I don’t want to be where you’re not.” Something is pounding between them. It might be Tony’s heart, or his own, Steve can’t tell for sure. He is not sure if he is hearing right or not; if he is mixing up Tony’s words with the song.

_We could let our friends crash in the living room  
This is our place, we make the call_

“I promise to eat whatever weird thing you make from the leftovers, and you can make sure I don’t spend too much on things that don’t really matter,” Tony says after a deep breath, the rush of warm air making a line of fire burn down Steve’s neck while Tony’s words become more real, yet more dreamy.

“I know that we live in the same city and we can see each other all the time. I just don’t want to sleep under a roof, you don’t sleep under. I actually don’t want to breathe under a roof you’re not breathing under. I don’t care if it sounds more insane when I say it out loud, but I want to take you to my office every day. I want to hold your hand when I reply to my emails. I just… I can’t let you go.” Tony tightens his hold as if Steve is going to run away now. As if Steve’s got anywhere else to be tonight, or ever. 

“I know, I see it, this is completely crazy. We haven’t even done the sex thing properly, and I am so sorry, but I want to do … that, God, Steve, I want to do everything with you.” 

Tony wants to do things to Steve. He wants to sneak Steve into his office and keep him there, holding Steve's fingers as he talks to complete strangers. It’s exactly what he wants to do, Steve thinks through a sudden hazy fog that comes down his brain, and he has to take a deep breath and lean into Tony a little more than he wants to, to keep from flailing. Tony wants to give Steve what he wants exactly and it’s so close, it’s right before Steve’s eyes, he just has to hold out his hand and grab it.

_I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover  
My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue  
All's well that ends well to end up with you_

Things that feel right might end up being alright after all, because Tony is as overdramatic as Steve, so why should he care about supersoldier serums and secret identities, about masks and shields? Tony wouldn’t care. He can’t care. If Steve just opens his mouth and tells him everything right in this second, Tony will not give the smallest fuck about any of that. Steve has to attack this one without a proper plan, apparently. He has to improvise.

“Tony--”

“Steve, I have to tell you something,” Tony sighs as he pulls back a little to look at Steve’s face. “I’ve been meaning to tell you since...forever, but it’s a huge deal, and I’m sorry I didn’t, but I'll tell you right now.”

He stops swaying and Steve feels a little awkward to stand still with the music still going. He runs his hand in Tony’s hair on one side, and his heart skips a beat as Tony closes his eyes and leans into it. “Unless you’ve been cheating on a partner with me, nothing you’d wanna say could be that big a deal. Me on the other hand--” 

Tony’s eyes dart open. “What? You on the other hand are cheating on a partner?” 

“No, God no, I just have to--” And this is it. This is the second. The perfect time. He can do it. “I need to tell you something too.”

Tony’s eyes soften. “Okay. Tell me.”

Steve takes a deep breath. “You go first.”

“Why don’t you go first?”

“I am hoping to be spared by the hideousness of whatever you are about to say.” 

Tony laughs, laugh lines deepening and all, and his touch on Steve’s cheek makes an unexpected wash of calm to run all over his skin. 

_Can I go where you go?  
Can we always be this close forever and ever?  
And ah, take me out, and take me home forever and ever.  
_

He takes a deep breath and reaches for Steve’s hands. “Okay. Let’s do this. Let’s face the music.”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry ??? You are more than welcome to yell at me, and I love you guys so much <333
> 
> The songs are all suggested by you amazing people, thank you to QueenE for Lover, ironycap for Underwater, sugerspiceandallthingsnice for La Vie en Rose, Slytherclaw2002 for It's been a long long time and Jeh for The Way I am.
> 
> Here is the [ playlist ](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLYAJPN33dQMQYViMUk9nyQ8T7vwUMfMwI) :)
> 
> Also if you were really wondering what I was doing in the past month, I was writing and posting my RBB fic, ABO arranged marriage in space with some ID porn :)) and here is the [link ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24418945)if you wanted to take a look :)
> 
> This is the [ Tumblr post for the fic ](https://avengersnewb.tumblr.com/post/620598641587011584/so-as-you-know-i-am-writing-a-two-weeks), in case you wanted to reblog it!
> 
> I'm [avengersNewB](https://avengersnewb.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, come talk to me :)


	12. Day 11 - Identity Reveals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I am so sorry, It has been over 3 months since the last update. My energy levels and writing juices came crashing down sometime early-July and I've been struggling to write ( as well as doing most of the other things with my brain :)) )
> 
> But here we are, after (at least) three major rewrites, this is what made the most sense to me, and I am so very much hoping that it would make some sense to you too!
> 
> Like always we're discussing the COVID-19 pandemic without mentioning the name ( although this chapter has no real reference to it) so if it's something you don't want to be exposed to, please take care of yourself and don't read this on.
> 
> Huge thank you to fifty and Jeh for beta <333

“Iron Man? Iron-- you’re _Iron Man_?” 

Steve looks pale, more than he usually does and he sounds too hesitant, too worried, as his voice breaks a little with every word. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I should’ve told you earlier, but we got busy with… well, everything.” Tony swallows and takes a deep breath. “It’s not something you expect to hear from a guy you hooked up and happened to end up self-isolating with. That he is, you know, the Tin Man.”

“Do not call him that,” Steve snaps, and his lips stay parted in exasperation.

“A’right, fanboy, I think I get to talk about _myself_ with a bit of sarcasm,” Tony quips, and can’t help the adoration that bubbles in his heart at the way Steve’s lips turn into a thin line, despite the circumstances.

“Soyou're telling me that I was staying with the guy who has made the Iron Man armors? Mark I to Mark L? That _you,_ are _the man behind the mask?_ ” Steve asks, with wide eyes, as he takes a step back, and drags a hand out of Tony’s. 

Tony steps forward and tries to smile even if his face feels numb at the moment. “There is a Mark LI too, but yes, Steve, yes and yes. It was all me. It _is_ all me.”

“That can’t be.” Steve shakes his head. “That’s… not possible.”

This is all very normal, Tony thinks, it must be, although he has no baseline for comparison. It’s fine, it totally is, even if it’s not what Tony had expected; not that he has a clear vision of what he exactly expected anyway.

“The guy who bought me a drink in a random bar, and decided to get a hotel room with me, so fucking randomly, is Iron Man?” Steve pulls his other hand away taking another step back, and the idea of the space between them clenches Tony's heart.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, do you wanna sit down? Do you want some water?” 

“Yeah, I think I’d better sit down,” Steve mumbles as if talking to himself. He walks around the room, passing all the couches and dining chairs, and comes back to stand in front of Tony. “This can’t be true. It’s either a setup or I’m still asleep. This is too random. This… this is impossible.” 

Tony takes another breath. “There’s no... setup,” he says, wondering if he should reach for Steve’s hands right now, “whatever that’s supposed to mean.” He keeps his hands to his sides though, rubbing his palms against his thighs. “Meeting you and falling in love with you like this was insane too, but it happened, right? For whatever reason, too random or just magical. Against all odds, but here we are. I guess it’s fair to say that nothing is impossible.” 

Steve shakes his head and narrows his eyes. “No. I guess it’s not.”

The room lights up suddenly and for a split second, it feels like they’ve been standing there for so long that the sun has finally come out. Steve turns to look out the window over his shoulder and turns back, looking confused and distant. He then decides to sit down just as the thunder roars, or gets frightened by the sound, Tony can’t be quite sure, the way he flops and collapses onto the floor. His guts churn at the sight though, and he goes down on his knees as if he’s pulled by an invisible string. He leans in to wrap his arms around Steve before he catches himself and freezes in place in an awkward position.

Something feels funny in Tony’s chest. His heart is clenching, or breaking, and the urge to caress the golden hair away from Steve’s beautiful, now-wrinkled forehead is painful in his fingers. Running a hand on the back of Steve’s neck to calm him down had become so natural, it was almost a reflex until half an hour ago, and now closing the two-inch gap between Steve’s hands and his seems suddenly impossible.

“You know what’s the last thing I remember from before everything went blank?” Steve runs a hand over his face and rubs his neck. “I was tryinna' think about a band playing a slow song just for us, because I didn’t know how to dance back then too, you know?” He looks up at Tony with glassy eyes. “I remember how Peggy’s voice broke off, the radio silence in the last seconds, the ice coming closer and closer. My head was empty, no thoughts, no regrets, no last-minute change-of-heart.” He looks back down, dropping his hands and he clutches his knees so hard that his knuckles go white. “It was just fear as I closed my eyes. Dark. Cold. Blinding.”

The room lightens up again and a shiver runs through Tony’s spine. A radio? A band playing a slow song? Ice coming closer and-- who on earth is Peggy? Steve’s words sound surreal, and the way he gets more incoherent by the second does not make any sense. There is something buried in between the scattered pictures he’s putting in Tony’s mind that Tony can’t seem to grasp, as much as he tries. 

Steve blinks and the lights of the living room flicker in his eyes. “I opened my eyes to a beam of light spilling through the curtains into a half-empty room. I didn't even need to look around to know where I was; the room reeked of despair, that deep frustration of being stuck in the same place for so long that you would lose count.” 

Steve blinks again before the flash of lightning illuminates his features, and the way he trembles with the thunder tightens Tony’s chest. Or his words, the pieces of a dark puzzle slotting into place, the understanding that’s starting to settle in, yet bringing along more confusion.

“There was something on the wall that I’d never seen in a hospital room, and for a second I wondered if I’d died but ended up in a hospital in heaven. It was too thin and too vivid to be a television, and too small for a movie screen, but it got me hooked, instantly. I was mesmerized by the slick lines and shining colors of a flying suit of armor. I got so fascinated with the smooth glide of it through the New York Skyline that I almost didn’t notice the Empire State Building being surrounded by skyscrapers.”

The wind howls and the rain starts battering at the window like it’s a scene out of a horror movie. Or a nightmare, Tony thinks, as if the reality of what’s going on is not surreal enough.

“That video is only two minutes forty-five seconds. I’ve watched it countless times since that day, but back then it took hours and hours for the breathtaking suit to sway across the sky before it disappeared. Something changed, something moved. Something melted in my heart. I started to feel warm again and stopped shaking and my teeth stopped chattering. Just like that, like a magic spell, I wasn’t terrified anymore.” 

Steve shuffles to stretch his feet and it brushes against Tony’s knee for a fraction of a second. The touch is barely there but it sends a jolt of electricity right to Tony’s heart, like it’s the first time, or the la-- 

No. Not going there. No.

“I wasn’t in the plane sinking in the ocean anymore. New York was safe, still there, looking more chaotic than it ever was in my time and so was I, still here, alive, despite the crazy joke that the universe had decided to play on me.” 

Tony takes another deep breath and rubs his chest. It’s getting harder to breathe and the few tears on Steve’s cheeks, that Tony is dying to wipe away, are not helping at all. Steve stuck in a plane that’s sinking into a frozen ocean is too terrible to think about even once, and yet, the image is replaying in Tony’s mind, over and over and over again.

“And now,” Steve sighs, and shakes his head slowly as if it hurts to move faster, “now, you’re telling me that you-” he turns to point to the TV, and back to Tony “- _you_ are Iron Man?” 

Steve’s hurting, obviously, and Tony knows that he needs to say something, reassuring or comforting, _anything_ at all, but he is simply speechless. He is lost in the concepts he can’t name and the code he can’t decipher, and his heart is beating too fast or too slow; it might stop beating either way. 

“I couldn’t fall asleep after I woke up. Ironic, I guess, like my body had decided it had slept long enough for the better part of a century and it needed no more. Nothing worked. Nothing helped. Not even a whole bottle of pills crushed in a glass of water could put me to sleep. I was walking in a nightmare, wide awake, day and night, but hey it was okay, right? Because my body can survive without sleep. The serum takes care of everything. Who cares if the serum can’t fix the hollow feeling in my chest? Or the dread that starts to pool in my gut as soon as it starts to get dark when the only thing to do is drowning in the ocean of the images I’m desperate to forget?” Steve rubs his eyes and scratches his head as the lightning hits and the thunder booms. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, to grasp his thoughts, and the image of Steve downing a glass of cloudy water and yet living in one long-winded insomnia feels like a hand pressing Tony’s throat. 

“Then I found YouTube, God bless, and the thousands of Iron Man channels,” Steve says and smiles, small and easy to miss, but it’s there and Tony lets his breath out and does his best to smile back. 

“Didn’t matter what the video was. A high definition footage of the Mark XLV flying in Sokovia or the conspiracy theory on how the US government is behind the whole show and Iron Man is a puppet to clean up their messes. I would just watch him fly and the image would expand in my mind, taking over the whole space, and it’d be a couple of minutes before he was all I could think about. He made me warm, and kept me safe, and undid the knots in my chest one by one.

I would fall asleep every time, even if it was just for a few hours, and I would still jerk awake, sweating and disturbed, with a pounding heart and a dry mouth, wondering if I was still in the ocean or if I was on that cursed bridge, if I was drowning again or failing one more time. But still, the only break I could get from the hell that was my life over the past 18 months, the only relief, the only breath of fresh air, was him.”

“Steve,” Tony says, surprised that he still has a voice, and he tries to go on, wishing to be as verbose as he usually is, to chatter away and make Steve smile, but that Tony seems so far away and so does that Steve; so does their little bubble of joy that’s been surrounding this quarantine room for the past days. 

“And then I met you,” Steve continues, his voice small and wistful, like he's talking about something that’s not there anymore, “a perfect stranger, a random guy from a random bar I wasn’t even supposed to walk into. I can’t even get drunk for God’s sake, I just wanted to… be like normal people for a couple of hours.” 

Steve looks at something behind Tony and grimaces. “The nightmares stopped. Waking up with Bucky’s voice still ringing in my ears and being so cold all the fucking time, all of that. Suddenly I wasn’t staggering between agony and grief, I had something to wake up to and sleep for and I thought maybe, just maybe, something good had finally come my way. That it was not a trick, it was not the universe’s new way of fucking with me. That it was just… meant to be.” 

“It _is_ meant to be,” Tony tries desperately, even if he knows that he’s still missing a large part of the picture. “I’m sure it is. Is the universe always supposed to be cruel and crazy? It _has_ _to_ throw good things at us at some point,” he smiles or he tries to, even if what he’s doing feels more like a meaningless expression. “Throwing the precious human being that you are to me? Giving me the honor of watching your cheeks go pink when I run my fingers over your skin, or the amazing things you do just because I gave you a StarkPad and a bunch of kids to order around? Good things do happen to people, Steve, and you deserve all of the good that the universe might ever have.” 

Steve’s lips twitch and his face twists, as if an old pain is stabbing at him. “There is no way that things would fit so perfectly for me, Tony. There is no way that I could have someone who can put me to sleep magically, and keep my nightmares away too. Someone who knows my song by heart, and talks about my stupid ass jumping on a grenade like it’s an extraordinary thing to want to save people? Who steals _my_ enlisting photo and calls it pretty?” Steve shakes his head. “Feels like an exceptionally cruel and crazy joke to me, Tony. Feels like dangling heaven in front of my nose, only to have it taken away, like a story where the moral is ‘if it’s too good to be true, then it probably is’. There is no way that the universe would be _that_ kind to me, there is no way that I get to keep this. Keep you.” Steve wraps his arms around himself and shivers. “I can’t. I just… can’t lose this. I can’t go back. I wouldn’t know how to survive. I don’t even want to try.”

Tony’s heart pounds painfully, his body numb but on fire, and his mind is running a mile a minute but still not getting there. There is an idea right at the back of his mind, a miracle, a tragedy, or both, and it’s right there, just out of reach and Tony can’t get the hang of it; not just yet. “Steve, honey, you’re not going to lose me. I’m right here, _right here,_ and I--”

“Are you listening to a word I’m saying?” Steve breathes out miserably, “there’s no way that you would still want me if you were.”

“I _am_ listening, I swear, and I’m kinda lost here, but I promise it doesn’t make a difference. You were in a plane crash, so what? I was tortured in a cave with my heart hooked to a car battery. And you have nightmares, big deal, so do I. Am I supposed to let you go for that? For anything?”

Steve blinks and tilts his head. He starts to shiver, as tears run down his face and that’s it, the last bit of Tony’s resolve to respect this invisible boundary, or _anything_ in the world that would try to keep him from holding Steve and kissing his tears away; now or ever. He leans forward and pushes through what feels like a physical force just as Steve leans in too and something shatters, maybe a window in the distance, as thunder rumbles and lightning flashes, and the wind blows, too close as if it’s swirling right between them.

“What if I tell you that you have no idea who I am? That I was in a plane crash, but 75 years ago, that every inch of my body hurts all the time, that I’m so broken I might come apart any second now? That I am not supposed to be alive in the first place?” Steve rasps between broken sobs, “what if I’m not strong or brave and I have no idea how to save _myself_ , let alone doing things the American way, whatever the hell that means these days. There was half a chance, maybe, when you were only Tony Stark, the sweetest, most caring person I’ve ever met, but Iron Man?” he sniffles, and his breath stutters. “Impossible.” 

Tony’s hands shoot up to cup the sides of Steve’s face. His heart slows, his body cools down, and his brain finally catches up with the racing images that have been flooding his brain. “You’re alive? You’re ali-- how? Jesus Christ, how on earth-- you were _alive_?” 

Tony brings Steve’s face to him and puts their foreheads together. It’s him, it’s absolutely him, flesh and blood and alive and he is hurting like hell, because for whatever reason beyond Tony’s comprehension, he thinks there is a single thing wrong about him. “It’s you,” Tony says, kissing Steve’s lips, his cheeks, his chin, “it’s absolutely you,” he repeats, as his fingers comb through Steve’s hair, “you’re here. You’re actually here, and in my arms by fucking accident?” He kisses Steve’s eyes, his forehead, his nose, as his hands go lower, touching Steve’s neck, shoulders, and digging into Steve’s back. He pulls Steve into himself, breathes him in, and God, oh God, he is as cold as ice. Tony presses closer to Steve, even if just half an inch more, enveloping Steve’s body with his own, hopelessly wishing that there would be some warmth left in him, somewhere deep down. 

Nothing makes sense.

And yet-- Tony’s just so stupid. 

It’s been right there in front of him the whole time. The fieriest eyes he has ever seen, the same burning soul that’s been looking back at Tony through the years whenever he has needed it the most. The power when Tony was at his weakest, the light through the darkest nights. The reason Tony has never lost faith, even at the most trying times, never stopped believing even if it felt like the most unbelievable concept then, that it’s possible to do something good, something meaningful, something right.

This guy, _his_ guy, is also Captain America, who died, and is now back carrying a 75-year-long nightmare, and 18 months of hell on top of it, where he couldn’t even sleep and yet, he’s the strongest, most level-headed person Tony has ever met, ready to fight, ready to run in the dark, open and giving beyond measure and reason. 

Tony rubs Steve’s back, as gently as he can with shaking hands. Steve can’t get drunk. He can’t even take painkillers, and he’s been in so much pain that he’s had to cling to a fantasy to be able to sleep for a few hours. He’s been alone, and lonely for fuck’s sake, in some shabby government-managed shithole that Tony can’t wait to find the authority in charge of.

_Not anymore and not ever again_ , Tony vows as he breathes Steve in. He will be there to fill the silence and melt the ice, to kiss Steve’s tears away, and hold him through the pain, every minute of every night.

He pulls back to look into Steve’s eyes. “I love you, Steve. I love your pretty face and your ridiculously kind soul and the fire that’s been burning deep inside you, for, wow, a century. I love you, inside and out. I fucking asked you to move in with me an hour ago, there is no chance in hell that I’d let you go _now_ that Iknow you’re the person who put himself in the ocean to save the world.” 

Steve shifts a little, easing into Tony’s hold, and Tony feels that breathing becomes a bit easier from then on. “I’m damaged goods, Tony,” he whispers into Tony’s neck, and his breath tingles a line across Tony’s shoulder, “and you--”

“And I’m damaged goods too. You’re broken? Maybe, okay,” he says, as he brushes his fingers down the sides of Steve’s face, his voice low but confident. “But if you will have me,” he smiles as his own tears finally fall, and Steve’s hands snake around his waist, pressing into his sides pulling him in. “I wanna be broken with you.”

***

It’s still raining outside as they make their way to the bedroom and Steve shudders with every touch of Tony’s fingers, as Tony removes his clothes, one by one. Steve’s tears stop as they get to the bed, and his body warms, slowly, as Tony rubs his palms, kisses his fingers, and draws gentle lines on his back. Steve presses his face to Tony’s chest and curls his feet around him. He falls asleep with his lips on the scars where the arc reactor used to be; every breath, a gentle kiss, a prickle to Tony’s heart, a caress to his soul.

Tony stays awake, long after Steve’s breathing evens out, and he goes over the events of the night over and over again. Nothing had gone as planned - not that Tony had planned any of what happened after the second dance - and yet, he still has Steve in his arms, feeling his warmth, listening to his soft breaths. He’s beat, tired, and wrung out, but he’s finally through the mill, and against all odds, has come out of it in one piece. 

They’re still here, and they might still have a chance of pulling through. Steve’s still holding on to Tony as if he’s the most important thing in the whole world, and even though the storm is still raging outside their window, he is not shaking anymore. There is still hope, even after decades of fear and sorrow, and their life may not turn out like the love songs, but they can try to fix their broken pieces, one nightmare at a time. 

He kisses Steve’s hair and pulls the covers over them as joy bubbles up within his chest and spills over his skin like tiny sparks. It’s _Captain fucking America_ snoring softly into my chest, Tony tells himself, and he repeats it to himself so many times before he falls into a dreamless, deep sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay!! all sorted I guess? 
> 
> I hope it was worth the wait :) I am hoping to write the final chapter in the next week because I'm desperate to close this one off.  
> (I'm planning an epilogue too but that might take a little bit longer.)
> 
> Thank you for coming along with this fic so far and please let me know what you think. Comments including emoji reactions are highly and truly appreciated.
> 
> I'm [avengersNewB](https://avengersnewb.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, come talk to me :)


	13. Last Day - Saving the World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter is here!!!
> 
> Like always we're discussing the COVID-19 pandemic without mentioning the name so if it's something you don't want to be exposed to, please take care of yourself and don't read this on.
> 
> Thank you so much to Bae and Seri for betaing this one, guys I love you so much <3  
> Fifty and Jeh, you guys rock! you held my hand through this all the way and I am really really grateful <3333

It’s a delight to watch Tony sleep. 

Like a kitten, Steve thinks, with his dark floppy hair, the way he’s pressing his face into the pillow Steve was sleeping on, making little cute noises as he shuffles against the covers, pushing them aside and turning onto his back.

He’s breathtaking. 

The beautiful lines of his body, the muscle tone in his abs, his mighty fingers that can set Steve on fire and calm him at the same time. Those laugh lines, so ridiculously adorable, and his chest, the scars Steve has loved from the beginning without even knowing why, the hollow where his face fits perfectly. 

A warm fuzzy feeling bubbles in Steve’s chest and he bends over the bed to stroke Tony’s hair away from his forehead. He brushes his finger over the line of Tony’s nose, touches his magnificent lips, and he doesn’t want to be that guy but he just can’t resist the urge as he leans in and kisses the scars. Slowly at first, tracing his lips on the lilnes inch by inch before he loses himself in the fantastic patterns that mean the world to him, now more than ever, and he kisses Tony’s chest all over, wet and open-mouthed, warmth turning into heat and the bubbles run like a current through his veins.

“Steve?” Tony asks, his voice low and sleepy, lazy fingers combing through Steve’s hair. “What’s happening down there, buddy?”

“Nothing to bother you with, really,” he replies in the middle of kisses, “I’m just admiring something here, if you don’t mind.” 

Tony’s fingers run down Steve’s neck and rest on his back. “I don’t mind, not the slightest bit. If this is what makes you happy, dear.”

Steve takes a deep breath. “Very,” he breathes out and he kisses Tony’s chest again, and then some more.

He sits up finally and leans forward to kiss Tony’s hair. He then grabs the coffee mug from the bedside table to hand it to Tony and wonders if the way his eyes light up with the sight of coffee would ever stop being amusing.

“Naked Captain America serving breakfast in bed?” Tony teases as he opens his mouth to take the piece of the fancy blueberry breakfast cake from the fork Steve’s holding out. “If you were wearing an apron I would have wondered if I had died and gone straight to heaven.”

“Well someone took all my clothes off,” Steve chimes as Tony sips his coffee and lets out a small moan, “and I’d wear the damn apron if you’d freakin’ buy one for me, _honey_.” 

Tony smiles with his whole face and his laugh lines melt Steve’s heart, like always. “Someone’s in a good mood today.”

“Someone’s so fucking sorry today,” Steve sighs, his hand freezing in the air. “I’m just-” he shakes his head and takes another piece of the cake with his fork “-so sorry.”

“Hey, hey why?” Tony asks, his face turning serious in a heartbeat, the way he usually gets when Steve seems to be crawling out of his skin, and Steve wants to hug him tight right now and never let him go.

“For being so damn selfish, as usual.” 

Tony caresses Steve’s hair and brushes the side of his face. “Don’t say that sweetheart, you need some alien grade glue to get selfish to stick to you.”

Steve melts into the touch and closes his eyes, the faint scent of coconut body wash on Tony’s forearm easing his nerves a little. “I freaked out and started weeping like a giant baby. I was a total mess. I _am_ a total mess.” 

“Do you know how _I_ was holding up 18 months after Afghanistan? Wallowing in the misery of being betrayed by someone I thought loved me like a father, unable to hold a meaningful conversation with people closest to me? Do you know how many times I woke up screaming Yinsen’s name, and wished that I had died instead of him? You think you’re a mess? I almost died and I almost did nothing about it. I know how it feels to be eaten up by a secret, with the weight of the world on your shoulders and no one to share it with.”

Steve shifts forward and wraps his free arm around Tony’s shoulders. “Still,” he whispers into Tony’s hair, and kisses his temple, pulling him further in. “You taught me to dance. You offered to take me home and you showed me your deepest, most painful wound, but all I could think about was my own pain, and my own regrets and my own fucking nightmares.” 

Tony kisses Steve’s neck, before his hands slide back up to cup Steve’s face and he pulls back to look into Steve’s eyes. “It is an honor to dance with you, and I’m thrilled that you’re considering coming home with me.” Tony gently tugs Steve’s face closer. “It is an honor to know what’s making you hurt, to hear about your nightmares, to be the person you let in.” He brushes his lips against Steve’s, just barely but the electric touch burns Steve’s lips anyway. “I don’t want you to beat yourself up for last night. I want you to be proud.” He traces his lips from Steve’s nose up to his forehead and his fingers dig into the muscles of Steve’s back. “You think you can do that for me?”

Steve’s heart skips a beat and his head spins a little. It’s not something he has ever imagined possible before, but if Tony wants him to be proud of his wounds, he should be able to figure out a way to do exactly that. 

He should at least try. 

“Good,” Tony whispers against Steve’s forehead, before he eases his hold and pulls back. He takes another sip of his coffee and considers Steve, eyes shining with a familiar spark that stirs something low in Steve’s gut. “Now, put this mug away because I see no reason to endure this painful wait any longer.” 

Steve’s cheeks heat up and his fingers go numb as he reaches for Tony’s mug. “Wait for what?” 

Tony licks his bottom lip and tilts his head to the side. “To make you mine,” he says, his voice suddenly hoarse and the fire alight in the pit of Steve’s stomach sets his whole body ablaze. 

***

“Spread wide,” Tony says from somewhere near the foot of the bed, and Steve’s legs part of their own violation as if connected to the command in Tony’s voice with an invisible cord, bypassing his brain. 

His cock twitches and leaks in anticipation of what’s coming next and something prickles the base of his spine as Tony’s hands smooth the insides of his thighs. Heat builds up under his skin, bit by bit, as Tony’s fingers inch closer to the crease of his ass. The jolt of want that explodes all over his body knocks the breath out of him as Tony’s slicked fingers press gently on his hole.

“Breathe,” Tony says and Steve does his best, but it’s too hard to do anything - even breathe - with the finger teasing his hole, tracing the rim over and over again. It’s just impossible to focus on pushing the air out or pulling it in, with the want that’s burning through his body, the firm and slow pressure of Tony’s finger that’s pushing in, gentle but insistent, the way Steve’s hole gives to let Tony’s finger slide all the way in, pressing against something deep inside causing sparks to run all over Steve’s skin.

Tony’s other hand rubs soothing circles on Steve’s stomach, as he pumps his finger in and out. Waves of pleasure flutter through Steve’s core with every slide, and it’s good, God, it’s amazing, Steve could stay like this, splayed out and spread wide, at Tony’s mercy, for the rest of his life. 

_The rest of his life_ , he repeats to himself hazily, but the idea does not bring a rush of anxious thoughts as it had before. He _can_ stay in Tony’s bed for as long as he wants, he fathoms, as Tony’s finger pulls out slowly, the realization tingling the inside of his chest like tiny bubbles.

“Is this okay?” Tony asks, pressing at Steve’s hole, and it takes a bit for Steve to catch up with the question. Of course it is, Steve tries, but what comes out is a bunch of overwhelmed meaningless noises, as two fingers circle his hole with the slightest pressure. Steve nods, managing some form of an affirmative apparently, and he clenches around Tony’s fingers many times as they press in, thrusting deeper, and then back out, so slowly, to slide in all over again.

“You feel great, Steve,” Tony whispers as he pulls his fingers out suddenly, “perfectly tight and opening so beautifully for me,” he adds, and the dark tint of his voice goes right to Steve’s cock. “I wish you could see this, God, this is-- ” Tony’s lips touch where his fingers were a second ago and Steve’s brain freezes as his body catches on fire. 

Tony licks at Steve’s hole and Steve presses his teeth together so as not to scream. He digs his fingers into the sheets, hoping he doesn’t rip thousands of dollars’ worth of bedding, and wonders if he can put a name on the feeling that’s washing over him right now. It’s burning and soothing, gentle and relentless all at the same time, as Tony’s tongue goes further in, so impossibly tender and maddeningly intimate, that tears start to well up in Steve’s eyes.

Tony kisses and licks, moaning as his tongue delves in, tasting Steve’s body, and Steve cries out loud when Tony’s fingers replace his tongue, out of nowhere, replaced by his tongue and back to fingers, before Steve can register either, so many times that he loses count, loses control, and stops trying to hold on altogether.

He gives up, and lets go; because he doesn’t have to hold back, he doesn’t have to keep it together, he doesn't have to pretend.

He can just be.

He can let go, and be sure that he won’t fall, he can be a shivering mess before Tony’s eyes, with his brain foggy and his spine on fire. 

Steve cries and shudders as Tony pushes his third finger in and loses track of every single thought left in him. There is only Tony, and the thrumming sensation ripping through Steve’s chest as he moves his fingers and opens them wide, the stretch, the burn, the impossible flow of senses wrapping around Steve and breaking him apart.

Pure magic.

From that first look, the first touch, the very first time Steve came apart under Tony’s hands, and along the way, how Steve has opened up to Tony, slowly but surely, how Tony has peeled the covers and taken off the mask, how he’s kept Steve’s nightmares away and soothed his pain, one kiss after the other. 

And it’s pure magic right now, how Steve’s body is opening up and letting Tony in, how every thrust brings the world down and builds it back up, how it’s unbearably too much and painstakingly not enough.

Impossible.

He can’t do this anymore, and wants to continue forever. He wants it to be over right now and yet he wants to hold on to the lightning that’s stirring inside for the whole of eternity. 

“Please, Tony,” Steve tries miserably, surprised that he is capable of forming words, “please, I want--” He doesn’t know how to move on from that though, and he stutters. He doesn’t know what he wants, let alone how to put it into words, he just knows that he wants, more than he's ever wanted anything in his life.

“What do you want, Steve?” Tony whispers between the kisses, “I’m gonna take care of you. Whatever it is that you want, sweetheart. Just tell me.” 

Steve’s heart might burst into pieces any second now. “I...” he rasps, his mouth dry and his head light, and he knows that he has to say the words, that’s how it’s been and that’s how it always will be. He has to say it with _words_ or Tony will wait, forever, if he has to. “I want you. All of you. I wanna… I wanna be yours.”

There is a heavy breath, and a low groan, Tony whispering something that Steve can’t quite understand, and Steve is not quite sure but he can feel Tony’s hand trembling against his stomach. 

“I want you to… I want to…” He wants Tony. He is close, so close, but not nearly enough and that’s the only thing Steve wants. 

To be close; to be more. 

“I want to be one.”

***

Tony kisses Steve’s toes. He kisses Steve’s shin and caresses the inside of his thigh. Steve’s body rattles from the sensation, as Tony lines up against him, kneeling on the bed, his cock slick and solid, hovering over Steve’s hole.

“Look at me,” Tony says and Steve opens his eyes, not having realized that he had closed them in the first place. “I wanna see your beautiful eyes, sweetheart.” He presses forward the slightest bit, tightening his grip on one of Steve’s thighs. “Are you ready?” 

The world stands still and Steve’s heart stops.

He is ready, more than he ever knew he could be; he wants this with every cell in his body and every bit of his soul. He’s been waiting for the right moment and the right one, his whole unexpectedly long life, even if he had no idea himself. The world, cruel and crazy and unyielding as it has been, has finally put Steve here, against all odds. 

Safe, held tight in Tony’s hands, washed with pleasure and thrumming with anticipation, open, loose, and ready.

He reaches for Tony and his fingers lay on Tony’s stomach. “Please,” he pleads, or begs but he doesn’t really care, “please, Tony, please, I can’t wait anymore.”

Tony breathes thickly, and his fingers tremble against Steve’s as he intertwines them together. He brings their hands up to his face, and the brush of his lips on Steve’s fingers send shudders through Steve’s spine. “I’ve got you, Steve,” he whispers into the back of Steve’s hand, “I can’t wait one more second to have you.” 

The pressure is sharp and feels like something's cutting into him. It’s hard and steady, and Steve breathes deep, as something gives and unclenches in his body, and lets Tony in. 

It’s fire. It’s rain. It’s an earthquake rattling Steve’s body, a volcano erupting and spilling all over. Tony groans and pauses for a second, and Steve’s grateful and disappointed at the same time. He needs a second - or an eternity - to get used to the storm beating in his chest and roaring in his ears, but he wants more, much more; he wants it all and he wants it right now. He whimpers, cries and screams as Tony starts to move, his words slipping over Steve’s skin, meaningless but comforting. Tony pulls all the way out, until he’s only barely inside, and Steve’s mind goes blank, with the burn and stretch that melt into a pool of pleasure as Tony pushes right back in. 

Steve’s coming apart. He’s gasping for air, unable to get enough, and the intensity of the moment is breaking him in two. It doesn't hurt, not in the very least, it just feels like Tony’s opening his body and reaching into his soul, with each thrust, each bolt of electricity that curls Steve’s toes and sweeps through his core, all the way up to prickle his scalp. He’s present with every nerve in his body, each somehow taking in the feelings thousands of times more than they rightfully should and there is absolutely no room left for anything else in the world, the concepts that are supposed to hurt, the memories, the nightmares, the regrets.

“I love you,” Tony chants as he speeds up and his thrusts get more forceful. 

“I... ” Steve tries, but words are tough to get out with the way his head is swimming, “I… me…” he struggles as Tony goes deeper and deeper, every point of contact morphing into a pleasant source of stimulation. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know, it’s okay,” Tony says, and Steve swallows his choked words, because Tony knows, he is here, he’s got Steve, now and forever, and Steve might finally be able to stop trying for the first time, like all the other firsts happening to him all at once. Tony shushes Steve again, his body slamming vigorously into Steve’s and then he wraps his hand around Steve’s cock and rolls his fingers over Steve’s balls.

This is an ending to something Steve can’t name; the beginning of something Steve can’t even imagine. Like a blank sheet of paper, and the most exquisite idea, blending together to create an eternal masterpiece, the gratifying flood that takes away years worth of debris and wreckage and leaves Steve behind in Tony’s arm, as they become one, the tears that tangle with smiles, as Tony leans in and brings their lips together. Colors explode into rainbows and the words turn into songs as they pant and shake together as they come, holding on to each other so tight, that nothing could break them apart.

Steve’s head sways and his body drifts like he’s floating down a lazy river on a summer afternoon. Minutes, hours, a century of peaceful bliss, lying in Tony’s arms, as he kisses Steve’s jaw and pets his hair, and holds him close, all the way through it. 

Gentle strokes clean him up, and soft warmth envelopes his body as Tony pulls the covers over them. “How are you feeling?” 

_Divine?_

_Safe?_

_Broken into pieces and put back together, dizzy and dazed?_

“Complete,” he finally replies, and he falls into a dreamless, deep sleep. 

***

Steve wakes up confused, with a vague vibrating sound, and Tony’s voice talking. He opens his eyes, his brain speeding up the waking process, and he sits up in the warm but empty bed as he looks around for Tony.

Tony is on his phone on the other side of the room, leaning against the window and Steve takes a deep breath to calm his nerves as he vaguely takes in the perfect lines of Tony’s naked back. 

And his front, as he turns to smile at Steve, and walk to the couch to grab Steve’s pants that have started buzzing again. He ruffles Steve’s hair absentmindedly after he drops the pants on Steve’s lap and turns back to the window, making butterflies flutter in Steve’s stomach, as usual. Steve fishes his phone out of his pocket, and his heart drops because he has 22 missed calls, 14 messages, and five voicemails.

He taps on the voicemails, and it might be hunger, or the toll of the eventful hours he’d had, but Nat’s words blur and get mixed up with Tony’s and Steve can’t tell for sure if he is understanding it correctly, at least until the very end.

_‘Where on Earth are you? We’ve been trying to contact both of you for at least three hours now. How could neither of you respond to your priority protocol calls?’_

_‘Steve, for fuck’s sake, we need to talk to you guys right this second. We’ve got confirmation that the base we did intelligence ops on a couple of days ago is in fact Hydra, and we’re seeing movement, so they might move the original version of the virus they’re keeping there. We have to act fast Steve, we need you, call me back.’_

_‘Steve come on, you’re the lightest sleeper in the world if you ever sleep, how the hell are you not responding?’_

_‘Fury is nuts, he is an inch away from getting special ops to raid your suite and grab your ass. If Hydra moves the sample or destroys it, God forbid, we’re gonna miss our very probable chance to develop the vaccine. Dr. Cho is briefing the government along with Dr. Banner, and we can’t get a hold of either you or Tony Stark.’_

_‘Iron Man is being briefed right now, and hopefully he has the power to wake up your sleeping ass. You need to fly out in two hours time, so wake the fuck up and call me, Steve, I’m flipping my shit here, and Fury will kill all of us.’_

He looks up at Tony, standing with his back against the window and the image of naked gorgeousness distracts him for a bit. 

“I’m not surprised that they knew who you’re staying with from day one,” Tony sighs, running a hand through his hair, making them more adorably tousled, “they didn’t mind leaving you on your own, for 18 months, but they would never leave their precious asset to stay with a random guy. Classic SHIELD.” 

Thoughts are rushing to slot in place, now that Steve’s fully awake. There is a virus sample to be retrieved from a Hydra base in the international waters somewhere east of Texas, SHIELD has known all along that Tony is Iron Man, well of course, and now…

“I don’t have clearance to disclose my own identity, so for what they know you have no idea who I am,” he sighs too, and wonders how messy his own hair is, as he combs his fingers through them. “What if I haven’t told you already?”

The sun glitters over Tony’s skin and his eyes soften. He holds out his hand and Steve finds himself out of the bed and in Tony’s arm in a split second. Tony wraps the stretched arm around Steve’s back to pull him in, and the smell of his hair calms Steve immediately. “We would’ve survived,” he whispers into Steve’s throat, sending shudders down Steve’s spine. “We will survive. Together.” 

***

Tony helps Steve to the shower and washes him with heartbreakingly gentle touches as if Steve’s a delicate glass sculpture that needs to be handled with care. He asks if Steve’s feeling alright _down there_ so many times, and despite Steve’s numerous reassurances, his touches get even lighter when he’s washing and rinsing and drying, well... down there. Steve holds back from reminding him that he heals fast, too fast maybe, and goes easily when Tony makes him lie on his front to put lotion on him and spreads Steve’s cheeks just to make sure that everything is perfectly normal.

It’s a slice of heaven right there and then, even if Steve’s just fine, and his body doesn’t need any special treatment after ‘his first time’. He doesn’t mind being the breakable object for a second, treated like a ‘new bride’ after the first night, and allows his mind to cling to Tony’s promise of the ‘the actual deal’ as soon as they’re ‘home’, when the world is not crashing down anymore. 

_Home_ , he repeats to himself, as he takes his suit and shield out from the back of the closet, smiling at the way his hands had shaken when he hid them there, the first day. He puts the suit on and takes a minute to look at his reflection in the mirror, before putting on the helmet. 

His life has turned upside down a few times since he last took the mask off. Someone in the next room cares about the man under the mask, who now knows Steve inside and out, or is at least willing to give it a try, because he thinks Steve was pretty before the serum and what’s special about him does not come from a bottle. The world is still burning and Steve’s shoulders, as enhanced as the serum has made them, are too weak for the weight of it all, but he’s not alone in carrying it anymore. Life throws good things at people too, sometimes, and there is someone out there, who’s Tony Stark _and_ Iron Man, and is willing to share his smile, his touch and his home with Steve. 

They step onto the balcony, Steve’s heart beating so violently that he wonders if Tony can hear it. Tony holds on to Steve’s hands, explaining yet another time, that the exterior heater will keep Steve warm at higher altitudes, and the automatic harness mechanism will catch him in the rare case of the arms malfunctioning, like Steve would ever worry that Tony might drop him in the middle of the ocean. He does his best to focus on Tony’s instructions, reminding himself that the fate of the world is in their hands, but he’s about to fly with Iron Man, for God’s sake, and he gets to be slightly, or completely, distracted.

Tony leans in for a kiss, as he clasps his gauntlets behind Steve’s back, his lips burning through Steve’s mask all the way down to his heart and the sensation of having Tony and Iron Man wrapped around him makes Steve’s heart swoon and do a flip in his chest.

Steve can do this.

 _They_ can do this.

Together.

“Call it, Cap,” Tony says as the faceplate closes. 

Steve takes a deep breath and smiles. “Let’s get this son of a bitch.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy?!  
> I really really hope you enjoyed it and thank you so much for reading this!  
> Please let me know what you think, comments, and kudos are very much appreciated! 
> 
> If you liked the fic and wanted to tell others about it feel free to reblog [this ](https://avengersnewb.tumblr.com/post/631093517387743232/quarantined-together-completed)tumblr post :)
> 
> I read S_Hylor's [fantastic fic Crash Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5155379/chapters/11870939%22) for inspiration before writing this chapter, check it out it's AMAZING! 
> 
> I'm [avengersNewB](https://avengersnewb.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, come talk to me :)


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